Beneath this smile is a thousand tears hidden from your eyes. Wiped aggressively from my glassy window pains which have been bolted shut from the outside. In between each breath is a thought I cannot carry. Reaching out for the latch to escape. With every wondering gaze I’m wishing I could see what was behind me. Even in my own home I feel fear of a lurking evil prying. I have been trying to think of ways to be normal all day. It took me hours to leave the house today and now I’m out I realise I haven’t eaten anything at all. But I have planned out my route to go back and cook. Can’t break the plan as my stomach twists and dives. So I have to wait. Feeling a guilt and sadness lifting up inside. Pushing down my insanity I focus on the smells of the flowers and the cheers of children playing. Absorbing the wonders of life I find myself paralysed sat on a bench overlooking a beautiful park. The sloping plush green grass, bees zooming effortlessly working hard. I wish I knew what to do today. I envy the bees with their purpose. I have to make plans in my head verified by the crazy person inside. She is me and I am her. From time to time I let her run the show and destroy someone else’s smiles as well as my own. Today I will just sit outside and hope the breeze can lead me away from my suicide.
Pardon me while I cry, I need to stand outside. This meeting has put me in a blunder. I feel like I should run and hide. I see nothing but bad decisions but my mouth is clamped shut. All I do is mumble in agreement. I always saw myself as strong and noble but maybe that is just the part that died when I poisoned myself with lithium carbonate.
Bipolar is when you feel depressed and hope it’s just a mood not an episode stretching far and wide into your future.
When your mood changes you are happy that you suffered just a few hours or days and not a relentless episode stretching into the unknown.
Drunk black out
My life is fragmented
I have spoken to you
You made me feel safe
But now you are gone
I am just broken records
Half glasses of wine on the lawn.
Stamping on my chest.
Devils claws sink into my shoulder.
Pushing me down
And sitting in my view.
Whispering ‘You are just another small time muse’
Meaningful gazes ask if I’m fine
Glances back scream ‘I’m fucked.’
I show a small apologetic smile
One that let’s you know I don’t need you.
That it will be fine.
It will be OK.
I am just someone who cries in the street on Thursday.
Wakefulness is like biting lemons,
This zesty energy pumps inside me.
Without a doubt I feel alive,
In the darkness or the light.
I have been struggling to be,
Somebody who is not drowning.
So I suck on lemons
And put coffee before me
So I can fake being somebody.
Wouldn’t it be nice
To find pennies scattered all around
Or to have conversations with leprechauns
With pots of sparkling gold.
Could it be possible to have a dream come true?
With no price to pay
Or anything to sacrifice
Like true love
Lucky, wouldn’t I be
If all my dreams came true
Without lucky pants or shoes
A story or a superstition
Salt all down my back
Counting magpies with a mild panic attack.