If our pain is unavoidable,

Let it be a pain of our choosing.

So I guess at 13 pulling a blade against my sick was a choice?

I chose my mental illness like its a option at lunch

Bipolar, anxiety or OCD.

Normality fleeted my deck of cards that very day,

Lined up just jesters and fours

Winners cards crumbled into ash.

From blood smeared on the walls

To vomit filled toilets.

It began so easy and trivial

To vodka downed straight

Dancing in the darkness

I guess I chose pain or did it choose me?

I guess I was unfortunate,

That my parents did not raise me right.

Or the bullies viper tongues,

Venom was deadly in my mind.

When I choose to date women,

And give my virginity away for free.

Did I choose suffering or was that all was offered to me?

When I was given black eyes as love

When I was locked in a secure ward

It was not just for fun.

Did I choose the pain or did it choose me?

I guess if it continues rifling through my successes

That I left an open door for it to walk in.

I guess it saw the weakness in me.

Maybe I will never be free.


Daily Prompt: Luck

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. 


via Daily Prompt: Luck

Didn’t brush my teeth today 

Did not brush them yesterday, I guess that’s what I call depression. I guess I am what people call depressed.

I washed briefly under the shower. That’s what I call success, I got into clean pyjamas and asked my mum to put on a load. That’s what I call sad as the independence depletes and the urges to take my medication overloads. So I overdose daily. I want the insanity to fade, the voices and thoughts.

Every day I have to remind myself to breathe when anxiety flies up and down my oesophagus. I have to breathe when my mind races or a noise doesn’t sound normal to me; or is it too normal to not believe?

I did not get outside today. The nature’s air did not caress me. I am merely a prisoner with not door to flee. I am just a person haunted by me.


Medication gives me more awareness to the highs and lows. It stops the hypomania creeping into mania, saddles the depression and takes it for a ride right out of bed into the everyday grind. Maybe it makes me a normal neurotic person and not the bipolar neurotic. I get through the day.

I recently added a old friend quetiapine back into the mix. Quetiapine is like a old lady on your back, she makes you hungry and makes you foggy like you would looking down from the highest peak. She seems to make me brain dead, out of it completely and I don’t hate it. She desensitises so much that I’m not even bothered by death, that a lot of the time I am just trying to get through the day back into my bed where I can relax and be myself.

The mood of Valentines 

Busted, happy valentines day and already started on a bad note. My colleague came to work too early meaning I rushed to get up and felt exposed. I walked from the house to the town centre feeling on edge. The mizzle turned to rain and my mood plummeted. Then I resisted buying wine before my bus ride home. I am going to remain sober, I am not going to let myself get out of control. I resisted the urge to cry when something made me jump. I hate being so jumpy. I hate feeling bad about myself. It’s been getting worse and worse. I normally try and kill myself by this time of the year. Should I feel proud or that I know that I have a pattern which is so regular that with out it I begin to feel lost.

Lost, losing my my mind. Am I lost? I have begun to see the world in black and white. Is this worth it, should I give it a chance?

A guy I know came over, he didn’t even want me. Nobody does. They say I need to work on myself but is it possible to grow with no idea where you are going.