KANATA:

This website is the only place I feel safe. It’s not real. This isn’t the real world, and it never will be. But I can say the things I never could in person. I can pour out what’s left of my mind, even if it’s distorted, even if it’s fragmented, because no one is listening, anyway.

I spent months in a hospital. But it wasn’t just any hospital. I changed the name. I had to. So, I did what I could to bury it. To bury it all.

I don’t think anyone ever truly saw me. They never understood. They called it "therapy," but all I saw was more needles, more pills, more waiting. Waiting for something that was never going to come. Waiting for someone to actually hear me, to see me for who I am, instead of this broken puzzle they kept trying to piece together. Every log entry is just another attempt to capture a fragment of what I was, but it’s all lies.

This is where my mind feels safe. I wrote this to understand myself, to make sense of everything that happened. The logs you see here? They’re not all exactly how things happened. Some details have been changed, some even redacted. But the feelings? They’re real. They’re mine.

They wanted to "fix" me. But I didn’t need fixing. I just needed someone to hear me without judging, to stop trying to force me into a mold that never fit. I wanted someone to see it. I wanted someone to know what was going on inside me, even if they couldn’t understand all of it. But most of all, I wanted to say the things I never could. To lay my mind bare, even if it’s distorted. This was never meant for anyone else. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll find some piece of understanding here.

I wasn’t broken because I was sad. I wasn’t broken because I had these feelings that scared me. I was broken because no one could accept me as I was.

The therapy sessions were just a blur now, bits and pieces of conversations that never meant anything.

That’s why I made this website. To do something with all the feelings they tried to suppress. To capture the isolation, the abandonment, and the confusion. To give a voice to what they couldn’t hear.

I changed the name of the place because I don’t want to remember it. I was just another patient number, just another file in their system. It was easier to pretend it wasn’t real. But it was.

This website is my reflection. The log entries… the responses from the therapist, those are their words. But the truth? The truth is hidden in between. It’s the spaces they didn’t fill in, the moments they didn’t understand, the silence they ignored.

Everything here is based on what happened, though some things have been changed, redacted. I needed to protect myself. To rewrite it in a way that made it easier to breathe. To rewrite it in a way that felt more real to me, because the real truth was never going to fit into their files.

But this? This is mine. This is my mind, my heart. And the parts of me they never understood.

They’ll never know the real story. They’ll never understand what I went through. And maybe that’s okay. Because at least I understand it now.

I’m not broken. Not anymore. But I am scarred. And this website? This is the only place I can admit it.