I'm Not Crazy

Since I was thirteen, I've been continuously called crazy. The older I got, the more common it was to hear those words come from anyone who knew me, whether it was on a personal level or from someone who only met me a month ago. The question always ran through my head: "Why am I crazy?" What have I actually done that earned me that title? Did I go on a rampage where I completely blacked out from anger and killed seven people because the voices in my head told me to do so? Was I sitting in my room alone, talking to the person that wasn't there about anything and everything and have no recollection of it? No, I can say with complete certainty that neither of those things happened. So, the question still remains. Why am I crazy?

The only person who can answer that, in all seriousness, despite having no real insight on what others have seen and said, is me. I am the person in this body who feels strongly, loves too hard, and cares too much.

I have your answers. No, I don't talk to imaginary people, and no, I'm not a murderer. I'm a twenty-one year old girl who has grown up allowing men, my own family, and my very close friends, to treat me however they want because I never wanted to see them unhappy. I was the girl who did everything I possibly could just so I could see how happy I made another person, because at the end of the day, their happiness meant more than my own did.

I'm crazy because eventually not caring about my own person caught up to me. I went every day letting the people I was trying so hard to please walk on me, and still bent over backwards to make sure they were okay. But not one person ever checked on me. I spent most of my days alone, stuck in my head, and had no one to talk to because I knew no one cared as much as I did about them about me. Some people are very good at being independent and don't rely on others to make them happy like I, unfortunately, have. I never intended on it being that way, but I grew up watching a marriage fall apart and watching my mother go out every night and meet different people because she didn't want to be alone. I grew up feeling like no one understood me and that no one ever tried.

I've always been one to invest my time into anyone who needed it, whether it was a friend or family. And then one day, I fell in love, which added a whole new perspective to this craziness I had already been accused of. I began devoting my attention and all the love I felt was unappreciated to the person who was supposed to take it and remind me that it was wanted everyday; to make me feel for once that the effort I was putting into someone was worth it because they loved me and cherished me as much as I cherished them. At the end of each and every day, I realized I was putting in all of this energy into a person who didn't care whether I was there or not.

My love, my affection, my devotion, my everything, was put to the side, because, for the one-millionth time in my life, I wasn't needed or cared for. All of these feelings that I had pent up were unleashed straight into a trash can. Straight on to the bottom of some stranger's shoe. And it's happened again, and again, and again, by my lovers, my family, all the people you trust to make you feel like a person when you're not feeling like one.

I'm crazy because I love so much. I am crazy because I can't stop caring about those who gave me a reason to, no matter what it is that happens in our lives. I'm crazy because I want the world to be happy instead of my own self. And you know what? I don't regret ever making anyone feel loved or like they have someone when they felt they had no one. I will never take back anything I have ever done for somebody because they do deserve to be happy, even though sometimes I thought they didn't, because they didn't care about whether I was.

My regret is not taking enough care of myself, is not loving myself the way I loved everyone else; for allowing the people that meant everything to me treat me like I was nothing. I did more damage to myself than I ever would to another person who probably would've survived without me. I am crazy because I am misunderstood and no one wants to take the time to figure me out. I'm crazy because I am anxiety and depression-ridden and I'm just a burden to those who don't know what it's like. I'm crazy because I am HUMAN.

I'm not scared to voice my opinion. I am not afraid to let you know that the way you are treating me is not fair. I deserve respect and love like any other person in this world, and I'm crazy because I forgot to love myself in the middle of loving everyone else.