It's been seven days since the imprint stuck to my skin-
the scars still hold true to the nature of which they were born.
They were strategically placed upon spots I chose
their insides ran from my fingertips like they were proud of it.
But I was not proud of it.

It's been roughly 91 days since the pills lined my throat-
broke through the shell I hid the dependency inside
decided to try and make myself better.
It was roughly 40 days in I took regret to my skin
these pills reminded me what blurry feels like
these pills made me forget what I actually feel like
but I'm scared of what my body will do without them.
Ten days after that the cycle continued- Day 50.
I was back on the same track I was on six years, 2190 days ago.
The small shell of who I once was cradled in the corner
turned to stone and built a monument of my dysthymia
the mirror didn't recognize me, I could not see myself.
I watch myself in the reflection and try to remember who I am
the swollen eyes do not feel like the home I've built for myself
and it's been 2190 days since I've felt this exact way
the thought of nostalgia suddenly makes me sick.
I am wishing for the days to blend together again
for them not to be counted on more hands than I have time left
this isn't is an introduction or a preamble to my story  
this isn't even an epilogue anymore-
I wouldn't really call it a eulogy either.

It's been seven days since I took to my skin
the same way I did when I was just a kid
overcome with the idea of dying inside of my mind
and watching someone else die in front of my eyes.
So what is my excuse now?
Just raw emotion cutting into me like it's a slice of birthday cake
but this is no cause for celebration-
blow out the candles.
Break me down and hollow me out
disinfect these wounds so they will heal quicker.
The mania and the downward spiral are no longer holding hands-
they are jumping ship.
Dive in.

I have mastered the art of invisibility again-
you don't see me the way you need to.
I don't show my emotions anymore,
hiding away this vulnerability
denying myself the ability to feel again-
you don't see this the way you need to
I don't want you to
see me.
Not like this.

I have mastered the art of hiding again-
alone in this spot I have found for myself
you're getting too close to finding me.
I don't want to be the one left looking,
I'm afraid I won't be able to find what I'm looking for.

Depression, regression my true feelings I must not show, for if I do what will they all do? What will they say? Will they all turn just turn their heads and run away?
These feeling I hate yet they keep returning into my life like the seasons but unpredictable as to when like a raging tornado. The doctors, the meds all in my head supposed to help and it seems at times they do.
Friends and family try to be there they try to understand but so many times they get frustrated, as if I"m not? Do they really think I enjoy feeling like this? Then having to put on a facade just so people know when I'm working or interacting with new people. All the meds they help then they don't Aaahhh!!!
I"m so afraid, so ashamed, I should be able to control this right? I don't want to lose my friends and family but it seems like this may become the inevitable. When I'm depressed all I want to do is lay in bed do nothing, there in lies the problem. I have to work, I love my job. I have to take care of my family and the house, I LOVE my family more than words can ever say. WHY? Why must I feel like this??
Depression, regression will it ever stop? I'm afraid in my world the world that is bipolar.... no.