A look into a flawed mind

Truth

(Note: I don't care if this doesn't fit any writing category or if it's not perfect. Honesty must be revived in the form that it is given and you can't give something impossible, for there is no such thing as perfect. And because this is a venting thing to try and make me fight this hopelessness weighing me down I will take as many pages as I like thank you very much 1:00am Abby doesn't want your baloney. And to any of my friends who care to read this I'm sorry if I don't make sense like usual)

The truth can be something that you can struggle to find for years.
  People can lie. They can be wrong. The truth they give you can just be a mangled jumble of possibilities and endless questions they pile onto you not knowing the real truth themselves, but refusing to accept their failure. Thus putting you through hellish amounts of tests, prodding, taking, stalling, and asking the same questions until their time is done.
  People can deny. They can insist that the truth is the same simple little problem repeated over and over, despite the amount of times you try the solution. And despite the true definition of insanity.
   And people can even turn the blame of this struggle onto you. Call you broken, crazy, a liar. Their tests can come back negative again and again and it can make you feel like you're nothing but insane despite the hellish punishment your body gives your day after day. Constantly punishing you for moving, for existing, with pain so severe and so consistent that it makes you ill. All this yet you can't help but think. "I'm so different, I have so many stupid variables making up my broken body that how can any of their techniques even work? What if I'm stuck like this forever, what if I'm just being an oversensitive idiot, what if everyone gives up on me like I did? What if I DIE before any of this changes. Reducing what I've fought to accomplish to a bunch of pathetic scraps of paper?
  Then that first little piece of truth is found. After so long suffering and waiting. Hoping while taking all of the horrid drugs they give you just so you can function, while still terrified of moving. And it hurts. The truth does hurt because the truth can be set in stone, this piece of truth on top of the other piece that feels like it was just found a few months ago. The piece that you are forced to struggle to keep under control no matter how much it scares or confuses you. Because you are the lucky one, the one out of dozens that was diagnosed so late, while others got help starting as far as preschool. Then your progress is interrupted by an old piece that was fit into the big picture more then a year ago. And even after you're so proud of all that you have achieved to catch up, as you enjoy the summer suddenly..
     
        you can't move. Every step makes the throbbing and incapacitating pain thumping through your legs more and more violent until your nauseous with the overwhelming pain that feels like it's engulfing all of your senses because of yet another piece. And it doesn't end. Even now with your new piece that you fought tooth and claw for it doesn't end. More medicine. More physical therapy. More braces you just swell through that and your stupid Autism makes feel like a miniature prison

It's never going to end because they are very clear in letting you know. That this is who you are. You have no cures. You have no ways to just fix yourself. All you have is techniques and medication to try in vain to keep your pain and differences under lock and key. They almost never stay. You are stuck a broken girl. Near being a woman.
   Near being a woman yet still stuck in her bed terrified of what will happen when your foot hits the floor. Near being a woman and unable to stay in a room with more then a few people. Near being a woman and all you feel like is a shell hoping that maybe, just maybe some hope will help you keep going day by day because you refuse to hurt the ones you love by ending it. Because even though you do your best to stay strong...

                   THE TRUTH HURTS