Do you remember what it felt like the first time you rode your bike without training wheels? When you fell off, it felt like the world was literally over. You were so good at riding your bike when it had the training wheels on. Now that they are gone, you don't know if you'll ever be able to ride a bike again. You begin to cry and you don't stop until somebody comes along and cleans your wounds.

This is what it feels like for somebody with a mental disorder. We pedal shakily until we accidentally swerve from our path, and suddenly our world is collapsing. We lost something we were used to; stability. We are unsure if we will ever learn to live again. We spend our days crying until we drag ourselves into bed at night. Exhaustion embraces us tightly and the moon blows us gentle kisses through our blinds.

For us, sleep is the bandaids your mother patted onto your knees and elbows. We are soothed until these band aids are ripped off. This leaves us in pain and exposed.
Nonetheless, we move on. Some days, we pop our training wheels back on. But most days, we are left alone, to fall. This is okay. One day, we will learn to clean our own wounds.