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.


Am I ill?

Stamping on my chest.

Devils claws sink into my shoulders.

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.

Suicidal me 

Harking,  crawling,  burden, smell. 

People see how I long to dwell. 

Sickness burning in my throat.

Sea of blood calls me to float. 

Ingrid bellows across the field 

I turn to see strawberry tears 

One step forward off the cliff

Takes away my wandering drift 

Although I am happy I’m also sad

There is nothing good in this land. 


The picture above is somewhere I once felt great sadness but have since been there and been happy. I imagine that the colours of the sea are the colours the water in the poem. 


The lady is beautiful 

Her body wearing a smile of admiration 

Her carcus

Laid wearing a carefully chosen outfit

Green satin blouse drooping over her wrists

Hiding years of tormented illness

Etched into her skin 

Skirt just above the knee exposing

Scraps and hits

As if saying we fought so hard to end this

Running rampant in the trees

The ocean snake whispers her dreams

Imagine a women with child 

A smile so warm and free

I see paling skin and melancholy 

Reeds shake as they drag her body 

Water ripples and tears escape

As a jug becomes empty 

I wonder for her family 

Summers sun thickens 

Flies buzz mercilessly 

In swarms like nets catching its prey

I see merely a victim of sadness

Someone who could not stay


I am all for being open and honest, I had enough of lying to my friends and family with stories rationalising my poor choices when really they were the best for me.  

I am not average, I’m not normal or stable. I scare people away and push them out of my life because I feel as if I am going to never be a normal person. That life with me in it is not good for others and that atmosphere is not good for me. I tell myself that they bring me down. 

The last episode I felt coming for months but nobody heard me. I told the mental health services and gp that I felt weird, that I was hearing voices and it was ruining my life. For a few weeks she was kind and honest ‘the voice’ who became known as a god Hecates but when she was mean she sent spirits and evil shadowy henchmen to taunt me. 

I knew this was wrong and tried to hold it together but the images and reality became confused. Some days I accepted it and let it run behind me, it manifested in figiditing or anxious behaviour. Other times I had ideas and I would butt in when people were talking. Other times I felt as if I was outside myself. Nobody said anything to me but I became increasingly paranoid and wanted to quit my life and run away to live in Italy. I started making Italian food obsessively, drinking Italian coffee and trying to learn phrases. 

I had been ringing the crisis team and telling them I felt so low. That I was being taunted and she wanted me to kill myself. I could tell it was wrong but after arguing with someone I love I felt that it was a sign that I could make people happy if I was dead. 

So I overdosed and after an 2 hours I decided to ring my friend. It dawned on me it would take days, weeks or months to die. That I had nowhere to die. That my shared house was not good enough. I needed a long term plan.