A wonderful piece that differentiates that level of suffering that most people don't "get" about mental illness (except, unfortunately if they've been there)

There's a hell that steals words, images, color, sound, thought. Pencils, keyboards, paints are strangers that almost leer at you for their foreign-ness to you. When walking is a conscious enterprise, when turning over in your bed feels like a days work, when answering a Yes?No question twists your tortured brain--what else can be possible--except breathing to the next second, the next minute, the next moment of survival. Those are the achievements that call for a proud signature. Suffering endured and survived. There is nothing that demands more creativity and offers something so raw and beautiful--if only to us. thanks