Summary

The text is a personal reflection on the struggle with mental illness, acknowledging its pervasive presence while asserting the author's identity beyond the illness.

Abstract

The author of the text expresses a deep struggle with an insatiable mental illness that demands more than they can give. It's not just their heart that's wanted, but their mind, soul, and entire being. The illness whispers insecurities and claims ownership over the author's past, attempting to undermine their progress and sanity. The author recognizes the parasitic nature of their condition, which thrives on their suffering and fears their recovery. Despite the illness's attempts to define and consume them, the author asserts their individuality and resilience, emphasizing personal growth and the determination to not be confined by their diagnosis.

Opinions

The author feels that their mental illness is never satisfied, always demanding more than they can provide.
There is a sense of being overwhelmed by the illness, which seeks to possess every aspect of the author's life.
The illness is personified as manipulative, trying to convince the author that they are not enough and will never escape its grasp.
The author acknowledges the illness's impact but rejects the notion that it defines their entire identity.
There is a clear defiance against the illness, with the author refusing to let it dictate their happiness or future.
The author expresses a commitment to self-improvement and healing, despite the illness's efforts to keep them trapped in a cycle of sickness.
The text conveys a hopeful outlook, as the author sees their growth as a path to eventually outgrowing the illness's criteria for them.

Insatiable

Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash

You want it all, and I’m sorry that

I can’t make you happy.

It’s not even that what you want from me is

More than I can afford to give you,

It’s more than what I even have at all.

It’s not enough to have my heart, you want my mind,

You want my soul, my reflection in the mirror,

Dead or alive just as long as I’m whole and

I can’t give that to you.

Not that you’re the one who taught me that I wasn’t enough

For anybody.

I hear you whispering in the back of my mind,

“She used to be mine.”

You can’t have her anymore because

I won’t let you make me lose my mind

You can’t even live here.

You don’t pay rent.

Kick me out of my own space so

You’ve got a roof, and me, a tent, and you are

Hellbent on driving me insane, making me think

The problem is with me, myself and my brain.

It’s not.

But you’re like a tapeworm, swallowing what I have

Because you say that I don’t understand hunger

And you want me to feel what you do.

I’m older now, and I know you.

You’ll swallow up my light and bleed me dry

Because you can’t imagine me being happy with some other guy

You want me to cry.

You want me to stay sick.

You see me getting better and it scares you cause you always thought

I’d never grow out of this.

The better I get, though, the fewer of your boxes I check

And if someday I no longer meet your criteria,

I get it,

Heck, I’d love that, man, I’d take it.

I know I made you mad when I went back to school and I

Did better for myself instead of bowing down to you, but

Even though you’re part of me,

Know I will never be you.

Even though right now, some of what you say is true.

You’re in my chart, but you are not me.

I am more than my diagnoses and

You’re insatiable, but you, my mental illness,

You don’t define me.