Alright, write about anything. Write about my boyfriend, music, career, job, my favorite place... I don't like writing about me. At least not anymore. I saw the power it held. Saw how it could hurt and anger others. The last time I wrote something, it really hurt someone and I haven't been able to write since. Scared of reactions. Scared that people would take my words the wrong way again, or the right way. I write to release. Release images, stories, and ideas that get stuck in my head and placed on repeat until I drive myself crazy and let it out. When everything is finally gone my mind can just easy back in its place and enjoy everything else that is going on, for a minute. Early mornings I can't get myself out of bed most of the time, not so much because I am tired. But more of, I want to finish my dream, my story. I want to see the rest of it, see where it goes. Because when I wake up it will all be gone and I'm here again. It may be a beautiful day, but lately, my mind is screaming something different. I feel collapsed, unable to mend or bring myself back together. And my mind, it loves it, it feeds off of it. It wants more. It doesn't want me to write, doesn't want me to work, or heal. It just wants me to sit and contemplate the unthinkable, goes as far as begging me to just try it. "You will feel so much better." Well I have gotten better, in a sense. I know that these new thoughts are not my own. They are the creation of this ovoid that has cratered itself inside my mind, inside my brain. It's what is causing all this new pain, and more. I want it gone, I want these voices and the pain gone. I'm supposed to have it removed, but to what cost? The possibility to never have a family, loss of feelings and sensations. Sight. I may be being selfish but, I want to fight. I want to win, push out those voices that are manifesting into full-blown figures. It would make things a lot easier for me and my loved ones if I just got it removed. They wouldn't have to see my panic attacks, personality, and mood changes. I wouldn't have to see their faces when they look at their daughter/sister/partner unrecognizably as she suffers and changes. I could actually work. I could remember who Jane was and possibly meet her again. I just want to try, I want to fight. So as we see these specialists and they tell us what to do. As I cry and pat myself to sleep at night. I will keep these dreams and stories and try to write. Escape from these thoughts and when I can't, tell them not today. There is too much I have to do for me today. And hope that I will be able to be who I once was and more.