My brain is full of cotton balls

They blot out everything and crowd my fragile skull, soft, white, pressed tightly down between my surface – blonde hair, weary skin, red lips – and everything else. I have only my features and a bland sedated thought process. I am a doll – plain-faced, simple, ubiquitous – the doll-people, we are – with hurt I feel but cannot touch to mend.

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I'm a former student of English literature, an editor and a creative writer who has been attempting to live with body dysmorphic disorder as well as severe anxiety and a recent diagnosis of Bipolar II. I believe that struggles with mental health are often lifelong and people in these situations need comfort, support and occasional moments of peace granted to them in order to survive.

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