This is a poem that I wrote a while back; it involves my experiences with both Dissociative Identity Disorder, hallucinations, and severe depression, and the feeling of isolation and confusion that comes with it. It touches on some really deep and painful subjects, but my goal in sharing this is not just to dwell in sadness, but to show others that they are not alone. And while we all have our moments of pain, there is always a way to strive past, survive, and thrive, despite the pain.
“The essence living in my soul—the voices in my head—
I try to banish them but they grow strong and worse instead.
You ask me how I feel and yet I promise you you’d start
To back away if you could see the depths of hell I see.
I laugh at you; you think you know. You think you’re oh so smart.
And yet you fail to notice what is always clear to me.
I know you cannot hear their voice; you cannot see their face.
I promise you you’ll see them soon; but just not how you think.
Their voice will speak through mine, and soon their eyes, through mine, will see.
Their thirst for pain, their hate for love, will manifest through me.
Don’t be afraid; they cannot hurt you. Never will, in fact.
My mind and brain won’t let me hurt a fly; you’ll stay intact.
And when this happens, I will say “I told you so” and laugh.
You brought this on yourself by your own ignorance of that.
These things you cannot understand are elementary.
The language of these demons speak and minister to me.
I make my friends with them; I know them well; I know their names.
They are not one, but many, as I am; I always change.
Your eyes see one of many that exist inside my soul.
I laugh that you’re so gullible; you see as you are told.
You see exactly what I want; you’ll never see the rest.
You’ll never see the witch, the bitch, the recluse, demoness.
The demoness who laughs at your demise, and scoffs your pain.
Where were you when she bled to death? Your death shall be the same.
The recluse who wants nothing more than silence, solitude.
Who yearns for death and wants to see her blood to prove it’s true.
The bitch who takes all she can get, who never loved or gave.
but memories she has of hell go with her to her grave.
The witch who talks to demons and who takes her joy from them
The woman with no conscience and no fear of punishment.
Who are these that exist within? Your eyes shall never see.
They’re safely locked away; their sanctuary lies in me.
And if they are exposed, they’ll die. They cannot be revealed.
So to my death, they hide their faces, forever concealed.
You see the good; and only that. It’s all you want to see.
My hell shall be your hell if you get anywhere near me.
So what has caused all this, you ask—those brave enough to try.
And what has caused you so much pain, and makes you want to die?
I smile at you, you’re really stupid; why you have to ask?
If you had cared at all, you’d be the one to answer that.
The memories, the suffering; I swallowed all the pain.
And in my soul they festered there and birthed another name.
Another spirit, soul who took a face, identity.
And now this spirit, soul, claims whole possession over me.
Why don’t you see it? How can it be so hidden from your sight?
This spirit hides behind my eyes, if you’d just see it right.
Beware the person she transforms me into when she breaks…
She breaks, too strong for me to fight, and takes possession of my soul.
Her mind and heart know nothing of the world but pain and hate—
Emotions I can’t feel caused by events I can’t control.
It’s difficult to be not one, but many, in one flesh.
My heart is ripped apart; my brain? A split chaotic mess.
And yet you say I’m fine, and I will be all right at last.
I want you to remember this when several months have passed,
When who “I” was to you is nothing but a memory,
Consumed by who I never was, but who I’ll always be.”