Burn

On a cold December day I awaken to a smile I was told good morning beautiful As the tapestry is woven, you trap me in along the way Clandestine meeting for the first time Nervous, unsure We circle like a battlefield, waiting on the first blow  My hips wrapped around yours, I am lifted against the pillar Your lips deliver a crushing strike Frantic skin and an addiction form Weeks go by, the good morning beautiful falls by the way side Your lips no longer touch mine You write poetry of masks and fallen walls But you run away I … Continue reading Burn

Making A Mess.

Messes. We make them. We clean them up. Hell, some of us are messes. I have a point of utter frustration I do not understand. I would dearly love too, but cannot, despite my best efforts. I am not a coordinated person. I forget things, I pay bills late, sometimes I eat cereal for dinner, and I can cry in the middle of public during a panic attack. My anxiety and bipolar disorder are crosses I carry. Having said that, I take medicine religiously. I follow a routine. I do everything I am “supposed” to do to manage my mental … Continue reading Making A Mess.

I Am Still Here

Twenty four. This is how many hours are in one day. One day to show you how far you can fall, you far you have come, and how arrogant to think there is any distance between the two. Imagine if you will, a constant onslaught of whips and lashes, with no break in between. Scars on your back, the thickness of skin necessary to live a life like mine or yours. I can’t count how many times I’ve bled, at my own hand or that of life. I cannot count the amount of times I have not eaten, trying to … Continue reading I Am Still Here

You Can’t Take Away My Colors

Died. Dyed. We call words like these homophones. They sound the same, but look different. This post started because of an odd act a friend seemed to take issue with: I dyed part of my hair purple. Granted, its not a traditional color and it will stand out in most crowds, but I did not realize it would be received with scathing disapproval. It’s hair. It is cut, it grows, it falls out, it does any number of things. Thus, I offer the explanation I gave them. For the better part of a year I was a redhead. It was … Continue reading You Can’t Take Away My Colors

Unrequited.

When you have bipolar disorder, love can take become an inferno that eventually engulfs its victims. Each party is left with scars and memories. Some love stories are not happily ever after. They are the short stories that remind us what we are capable of. I do not want labels. I do not define my life in absolutes. I want one perfect kiss in time, to reach for in the farthest corners of my mind when I need a kiss oh so badly, but there is no one there. I want a kiss that can sustain the moments in between. … Continue reading Unrequited.

t-r-u-s-t.

Trust. T. R. U. S. T. It’s this simple, five letter word which holds so much meaning. You lose it, you gain it, you break it and you restore it. Trust is a very resilient ideal. When you are bipolar, riddled with an anxiety disorder, trust becomes a battleground. Who to tell, who to lean on, and yes, who to trust. I shall even take it a step further. What happens when the person you cannot trust is yourself? The line is blurred. I question the most basic fundamentals in my life. I procrastinate major decisions to ensure my mood … Continue reading t-r-u-s-t.

Rise & Fall

Rise. Fall. Rise. Fall. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. My lungs fill with air. It’s cold and clean. It’s winter morning in my chest. I’m trying to focus on my breathing. My heart is literally skipping beats. No measure of oxygen is enough to calm this terrifying pounding. This is a panic attack. It’s my third one this week. The triggers blur together now. No longer is it one instance… It is any number of things that send me falling off a cliff. Medicine is a patch that soothes the body in one moment, deceiving it into calmness. The … Continue reading Rise & Fall

Struggles.

I’m bipolar. I take my thyroid medicine almost every day. I take my mood stabilizer every night. I understand the medical reasons behind why I am this way. I cry at a wall, unable to get out of bed. I have no interest in life. I don’t sleep. When I do sleep, I am barely able to wake up. I think about taking a blade across my wrists daily, an image in my head. I read the stats. I try exercise for a few months, eventually losing the energy to even go for a walk. I buy fruits and vegetables, … Continue reading Struggles.

Character.

When I was 14, I was 40. I was omnipotent and brilliant and an excellent judge of character. Clearly I was an idiot. Let’s examine that word for a moment, “character.” It has many meanings, but I interpret it quite differently these days. Fairy tales, novels, television shows, movies… they all contain our favorite characters. The faces shown to the world are of our own choosing. We can depict ourselves in most any light we choose. Side note, don’t depict yourself in fluorescent lights. We never know who someone truly is. Whether your realizations are a pleasant surprise or a … Continue reading Character.

Aches

That dull ache low in your belly. A sharp pain in your back. The ache of being betrayed.  Of all the flowers in the garden, I am not the brightest; make no mistake however, for you cannot forget my bloom. Painting do not adorn my pale skin. Though my heart is pierced, my body is only slightly done.  I describe myself in such a manner because it is often the loudest cry that implores to be heard. I do not cry loudly. I do not scream. I am silent in my ache. It does not lessen the pain of any … Continue reading Aches