Tossing and turning.
Unlearning abusive systems and relearning loving skills.
Becoming a dream keeper as a rebellious angel child anything is possible.
So I am very soulfully strong and heart-meltingly adorable.
I provide nightmares for my worst enemies.
And sweet dreams for my dearest friends.
Anyone in the middle is going to live with their political aspirations.

I may be an odd ball but I will make the ground beneath me crack open from my rage. I find that when I fight a war wits, the Earth Bites Back. Doctors in psychology, medical, therapeutic and logic all agree that I am crazy and insane. I have been through all of the scans, x-rays and tests for mental health. I have medications for my bipolar disorder and my high functioning sociopath-ness. The meds don't take away my creativity nor my high strung rebelliousness. I know how to take care of myself. My psychotic break was the worst thing to go through. I don't have all of my memories from that summer. I know how to decode my literary codes from that summer. I remember the mood swings, the restless nights, going to the hospital, my mom freaking out and me having no idea what was going on. That summer is all a fever dream to me.
The Earth Bites Back what some call crazy, I call genius.
The Earth Bites Back, I don't plan on relapsing my psychotic break.
Mentally, I sound like an alcoholic, too much stimuli and I am everywhere either too high or too low. The fall and winter depression is the worst too. All of the crying, all of the misery, all of the dreary overthinking and all of the sulking over the past.

I wonder if you ever think of me.
I wonder what your days are like.
I wonder if you ever miss me.
I wonder if you are okay.
I wonder if we could start over.
I wonder a lot of things.

Living with a split mind is like thinking of yourself through a cracked mirror. One is real and the other isn't reality. To manifest one part of yourself is to challenge reality and leave the fakeness to other people.
To live with a split mind is to think of yourself as a monster then be the sweetest person no matter how cracked the mirror is. It is always staring back at you evilly grinning.
I was terrified of myself, 2 summers ago. I didn't want to hurt anyone so I did what I do best read until my brain can't take it anymore and write until my hand cramps up. I thought I dreaming of my life in slow motion where no one could stop me.

Fall and Winter is my bipolar seasons.
Spring and Summer is my schizophrenic seasons.
Considering Summer is about to end and Fall is about to begin.
I am ready for the paradigm shift. I am medicated and I have a support system.
I hope I don't relapse. The last time I went bipolar I went catatonic to the point that it scared my dad and mom. The doctors said it was an isolated incident but I am afraid of the chances of it happening again.
It's not that my schizophrenia gets less it is just I notice that my mood swings get more rapid during Fall and Winter.
It's not that my bipolar disorder gets less it is just I notice I am more hyperactive during Spring and Summer.
Much like the Eclipse my mental illnesses interact with each other as though they are the Sun and the Moon.

Yes I am a paradox. I am a writing and music nerd. In my mind I have records of drama from middle school and high school. I act like I am not listening to other people's conflicts with each other when I really am seeing what happened. Gossip and Rumors News back in those days were numerous. I have an instinct to fix situations. Yes my mood swings have caused drama several times in my life. I can't help the fact that I am passionate. I was the private journalist of my middle and high school days. No I never joined the yearbook.
That seemed too easy. I have always enjoyed working hard for my spot in society.
Here is the Thing About Conflict, I don't care whether I caused the affect of a situation as long as fix it before it become a problem. Sometimes I am a drama queen, other times I am the most mild mannered ****** you will ever meet. I can promise that my inner conflicts are my issue not yours. I won't ask for help until I know I need it. I am notoriously stubborn and strong headed you can ask my friends. This is my new chapter that I get to write not anyone else get to write my story. My story is what you expect of a person: worth reading.
Here is the Thing About Conflict, my anxiety knocks me out when it's mine. My depression will throw me into an ocean of my own thoughts when it's my conflict. So when I ask for help, just know I need it.

To feel weak, to feel tired, to be unbalanced from an unknown force and the pulsing in the gut.
It's a sleepy feeling as if the pain in the gut is dripping every ounce of energy through blood.
It's want to sleep for an eternity but stay awake so I don't miss anything.
Maybe it's because I had a panic attack yesterday.
Maybe it's the sugar cravings.
Maybe it's my mood swings being more restless than I am.
Maybe it's me being more weird if that's even possible.
It's strange being medicated when period cramps are present.
It's strange how my emotions feel stronger, sharper and more intense than usual.

Depression to me is dying while still living.
Depression to me is forgetting to shower and sleeping too much.
Depression to me is eating too much then throwing up my dinner or eating too little and starving myself to relieve the guilt.
Depression to me is writing to find worth in work in myself.
Depression to me is crying into my pillow to muffle the noise so no one listens to me and reliving flashbacks in my mind.
Depression to me is having the world spinning beneath my feet and not remembering my name.
Depression to me is not being able to breathe and counting to ten.

I saw you drive past me.
I saw your dark brown hair and ocean blue eyes.
I saw you for a split second and my heart skipped a beat.
I saw you and for a split second I forgot my father sitting next to me in the car.

She is the girl I made out with in the Hawk's nest in college.
She is the girl who I fell in love with.
She is the girl who I can't stop thinking ever since I met her after the SGA interviews.
She is the girl who comforted me when no one else would.
She is the girl who changed me for the better.
She is the girl who wanted my life to be only mine.
She is the girl who is my vocal witness.

Solving riddles from my dreams.
It's an ever changing story.
Some of it makes sense but just barely.
The rest is nonsense and possibilities.
We are riddled with madness over our dreams.
Maybe the madness is what keeps us sane.

I have nothing to do.
I have nothing to say.
Maybe it's the rain. Maybe it's this exhausted feeling inside of me.
Maybe it's the day.
Hours tick by. Minutes are gone in a blink of an eye. Just because I wanted to do research on my mental illnesses.
I feel complete and bored. I wrote down everything I read.
Yet I still feel tired and useless. I didn't cure my mental illnesses by reading about them I am just more aware about them.

You Vanished without saying goodbye.
You Vanished as if nothing was left.
You Vanished and I miss you.
You Vanished and I want you to know that I am still here.
You Vanished and we are still friends.

When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend we fight which is very often.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he gets angry he shuts me out and I give him the silent treatment.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he acts like he is the victim.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he begs for me to love him more than a friend but I don't.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he thinks my boundaries are my standards.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he thinks that I will allow him to insult me personally when he feels threatened by my intellect.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he wants to kiss me but I push him away.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend I wish I could break off the friendship and quit him forever.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend I wish I never met him.

The Mystery Girl wanted to ask for my number the day before Valentine's Day. I kept staring at her and no words would come out of my mouth. She kept blushing because she kept noticing me staring.
I just get so nervous around her I forget what to do.
She is so beautiful and vocal about her feelings for me that I am left speechless.

When life is going well and may I say almost too well. I wonder where is my anxiety? Then BOOM! My anxiety shows up and says, "You called?" in a poised precise sing-songy voice.
There is My Anxiety. Always fidgeting and always creating mountains to climb. It calls out my name into it's endless void.
What are you if not my leash that keeps me chained to this reality?
Do I call you comfort or the depths of being unhinged?
I will never know. Awaken The Beast if you must Anxiety just make sure to hand me my sword on the way out.

Now that The Girl with Green Eyes is back in town I don't know what to do. I am panicking like would if one of my coworkers talks to her and me being The Phantom becomes a joke to her.
I enjoy being mysterious, fun-loving, outgoing, argumentative, three steps ahead of the crowd and the rebel of poetry.
Would if she finds out about her poems and hates me? Would if she depicts me as a villain to her? Would if she figures out that I gave away her secrets so I could have my own peace?
I feel vulnerable and I am going insane.

What is love?
Love is selfless devotion. Love is being who you are with someone else. Love is getting used to being single and learning to be more you.
Love is finding ways to be proud of yourself.

I fell you in the 6th grade. You wanted to be friends.
We stayed friends. You met my best friend. At youth group growing up throughout the years you were the popular weird boy. I saw you perform at church. You went to my graduation party. I went to your wedding and you got married to someone else. I am proud of you.

It's peaceful, it's one moment you are there, the next moment you are no longer breathing.
It's going to heaven for a few moments and then coming back to your body.
It's catching your breath after dying for a few moments.

Sensitive to light, sometimes too bright or not bright enough.
Sensitive to sound, sometimes too loud or too quiet.
Sensitive to my emotions, feeling everything intensely or not at all.
Sensitive to my mental state, panic attacks feels like dying and overthinking feels like rushing through every emotion in reckless abandon.
I am a highly sensitive person and I know what I want out of life.
Being sensitive is my superpower because I know what to expect from people.

My little sister blasting music.
My mom watching television at a blaring volume.
My dad watching YouTube videos on his phone at a deafening tone.
All of us waiting to go to my Grandma Kay's apartment.

My parents call me the only normal kid of the family which is a nice cover story but the reality is that I am the weird, rebellious, special needs kid with a silver tongue and a heart of gold.
My siblings call me weird, an old soul, an elder person, an enigma and annoying. That's more accurate.
Normal is Boring, it's insulting to my intelligence to be called normal by my parents.
Normal is Boring, I don't like the word normal because it's full of false tales and societal expectations.

It's the bonded trust and the dysfunction.
It's fighting over stupid stuff. It's stealing clothes from each other's dresser. It's telling truths and accepting each other.
It's celebrating birthdays together and playing board games on holidays.

Some Heroes Leave you to deal with a destroyed structure.
Some Heroes Leave because life sent them away from you.
Some Heroes Leave grief inside of you so deeply you want all of the pain to be cried out of you.
Some Heroes Leave because they didn't know how to save you anymore.
Some Heroes Leave because the cape got too heavy for them and mask fell off revealing a selfish glorified coward.
Some Heroes Leave because there was nothing left to say.
Some Heroes Leave because they never understood anyways.
Some Heroes Leave because they have their own demons to face.
Some Heroes Leave because they have no idea how to articulate their words about their feelings.
Some Heroes Leave because it was there turn to be cared for.
Some Heroes Leave because they are injured from battles.
Some Heroes Leave because it was never about you maybe they just needed time to heal.

That of a broken-heart better than lovesick for with this broken-heart I know our love was true.
That of a broken-heart better than lovesick; I still remember your soft lips against mine and how you smiled as you were in my arms as my hands shook.
That of a broken-heart better than lovesick for we said we loved each other and we meant it.
That of a broken-heart better than lovesick because you said, "I don't regret what we had and would do it again; I am glad to say, "It's better to have loved and lost than not at all."
That of a broken-heart better than lovesick for one day my broken-heart will heal and you will be a scar on my heart better than lovesick because our love was real.
That of a broken-heart better than lovesick even though you are with someone else, I know we were happy together.
That of a broken-heart better than lovesick, I want you to know you weren't just an experience to me, you were my lover.

Death is an old family friend of mine and Life is on speed dial.
I won't tell which is witch.
A life of a writer's life is soulfully expensive just ask the parents.
So life of a reporter is platonic relationships and actual good stories not the obtuse stories put on your desk.
So rebel! Start a revolution! Rise up and live your best lives! Make people wish they were you when they can't!

It was cold in the cafe because emotive life.
Anxiety and Depression.
Deliciousness. Strong Coffee in General.
Memes and Waking up because can't miss that healthy walk.
Sunshine and dying under that heat wave.
Climate change. Political issues.

To be mad you have to understand Nonsense.
Nonsense is a language, normal people can't understand.
To be crazy have to understand the hows and whys of Nonsense.
Nonsense is a language, the sane can't understand.
To be gifted you have to understand Nonsense.
Nonsense is a language that few understand.
To be troubled you have to understand Nonsense.
Nonsense is a language, comforted people can't understand.
To be intelligent you have to understand Nonsense.
Nonsense is a language, the illiterate can't understand.

Politics. People as huge crowds.
Paper and Pen.
Metaphors and Fights.
Human Rights Debates and Agriculture.
Voting is very politically charged.

Hierarchy implies there is an established ranking system.
Anarchy implies we live in a dystopian world.
Would if both perspectives are right? Elaborate with me if you will.
Traditionalism is a way of ranking people by values. Militarism is a way to rank people by status. Therefore the status quote is a mixture of traditionalism and militarism. Vaping give people wet lung disease at the worst and Smoking causes lung cancer so in a way buying into consumerism we are drugging ourselves to an oblivion.
Drinking is a way to stimulate happiness but it doesn't get rid of depression.

When I wander I am never lost just exploring the world in my own way. When I aim for my dreams I try my best to not to get caught up in the clouds. When I go mad my reality is lucid and real.
When I go sad I associate that mood with a memory.
When I go delusional I do damage control as fast as I can.
I didn't lose me. I have never lost me.
When I lose my mind I come up with battle strategies to protect myself. Whenever I lose my mind it's always about preserving myself from the cruel, dark world around me.
I didn't lose me. That's my achievement.
I may scare people with my insanity but I am worth getting past the stigma. I have always known that.

She works with me and we have known each other for years.
Not much have changed. She is still her and I am still me. I mean that in the best way possible. I make her laugh and she makes me laugh.
We always hung out with mutual friends. She is my Friend from the Past. We vibe at a positive frequency. I really don't know hip slang.
She is funny, smart, beautiful and trustworthy.

People come with No Instructions. We simply know we are different.
People come with No Instructions. Yet people write different rules within each religion.
People come with No Instructions. Yet we have a government that is divided because we don't let moderates become president since the saying, "Majority rules and minority rights" been invented.
People come with No Instructions. If we considered the flaws of the generations of backwards thinking of letting men decide women's fate then there needs to be more progress.
People come with No Instructions. Change is inevitable the politicians   have to stop avoiding it.

Thank you readers and poets for my poetry and I!
I would be no where without you guys and gals.
Merry Christmas Eve! Enjoy the holidays!

Drinking mimosas and taking down the Christmas tree.
Watching superhero movies.
Feeling the slowness of time.

I didn't get as much attention from my parents as my two older siblings did. But I did win the hearts of both of my parents.
My dad loves me in the traditional sense the way a father can love his daughters and son. I may be the 3rd born. I am one of the middle children with my big brother. My dad always went to my cross country meets and defended my sanity to my mom every time.
My mom loved me by forcing me into a dress, with her cold gazes my way, her warm hugs, her night kisses on my cheek, her lectures, her timeouts when I was being sassy and her my way or the highway approach to disciplining me and my siblings. I chose to be gentle, loving, caring and selfless because I saw the darkness inside my mom at a young age. I have a good, dysfunctional family. My brother may have an ego, a no judgement approach to life, wants everyone to be his friend, selfless, gentle and loving. My big sister the oldest of my siblings and my little sister the youngest of my siblings both chose to be judgemental, cold to those they hate, warm to those they love, having anger issues, always cool and collected by calculating their next move in life. I learned to be fearless, stubborn, full of surprises, unpredictable, out-spoken and stoic because that's how I thrived by being different from my sisters and mother. If nobody can read my motives then I can do whatever I want within reason without breaking the law. My big brother always cared too much about what anybody thought of him but he have always respected my choices, my creative lifestyle and me because I was always the rebel of the family.

I don't need a magic broom to "Defy Gravity" as the musical Wicked implies. I just need ink and paper. I create new chapters of my life. I forge my path. I slip off the expectations like a jacket and hanging it up so it shine up the white room with it's gilded glory.

Stitches out and I still feel the pain.
It ebbs and flows.
Bruise is fading and skin is sealing up.
Soon becoming a scar.
Healing is not so far.

Thing about bipolar disorder. There is no cure and it's a mental illness.
The thing about bipolar disorder, I can be depressed for no reason or I can be restless for no reason.
The thing about bipolar disorder, there are times I see shadows moving not attached to anything.
The thing about bipolar disorder it can only be treated with antidepressants or an SSRI.

I am dramatic, manic-depressive, bipolar and a master of my own emotions. Trauma is an old friend of mine. I am used to be abandoned, people being charmed by my personality, people thinking that I am insane and my closest friends not knowing what to do with me. I can't turn off my emotions trust me I have tried in my past many times. I can't be emotionless but I can act like I don't care which is close enough. I will stay away from people when I feel bad and by bad I mean like pressure to the back of my eyes, world spinning, can't breathe type of insanity.
I am used to being insane but the affect my insanity have on people is different for everyone in my life.

*******! There is souls in life.
Google Translate Sings is awesome. People **** because death.
You are all ******* and fuckwads of your own life.
Valid is valid.

Coffee, strong and bold.
Outside is cold.
Coats and jackets.
Christmas shopping and hanging out with family.
One more week of Fall then stepping into Winter.

We are humans living in a Flawed System.
Where having a heart and a mind is frowned upon.
Where being brainwashed by society is normal.
Where billionaires runaway from plagues instead of curing them.
Where being poor gives you empathy and being rich gives you sympathy somewhere in between is apathy. To not care is be lonely.
To care too much is be beloved. Somewhere in between is an average life. I don't know what average and normalcy is.
I am a special needs kid who is mentally disabled and mentally ill.
To be mental is to have people invalidate the disability and the illnesses. I am used by society for my strengths. My weaknesses are disregarded. To live is to be misunderstood.

From the distance
You see a stoic figure. I can be but I am not always. Close the distance. When you get closer you will find someone who will love you for all your imperfections. Close the distance. You will find someone who will miss you beyond space and time. Distance of insecurities beckons to fear of one another. Distance of minds divides an entire country. So close the distance.

The joyful Vanilla Latte burnt my tongue at Panera Bread.
Then I slowly sipped sarcastically while my abusive ex-boyfriend Ken Darkheart Jr. was texting these online girls with memes.
I as a liberal made a funny face and went home untouched by his impure memes.

I hangout with my best friends much more often now that I am medicated. It's refreshing talking to them. I trust them with my life. They are amazing, talented, intelligent and good people. Every time I hangout with my best friends I feel free, loved, and cared for. When they smile and laugh I know it's real because I can feel it in my heart. They are the realest people I know. I never have to hide my mental and emotional scars from them because they aren't perfect either. I never have to try to be normal around them because together we are weird, quirky and well read.

In a world full of self-absorbed people who have inferiority and superiority complexes it's impossible to know if you are handling a demon or an angel.
Filtered Conversations is like selecting a small percentage of your personality and standing on a stage telling the world a story.
I have no filter I will pick a topic and read the room. Some will call me an old soul and others will call me mature for my age.
It's the same label either way.

Sometimes it seems days run together in a blur of business and boredom.
Sometimes it seems days run together only remembered by book chapters and hanging out with my parents.
Sometimes it seems days run together tv shows and movies only remembered by my mother's smiles and my laughter.
Sometimes it seems days run together because one moment it's yesterday and the next moment it's today.

Old, wise it stands
taking on the winter
adamantly with courage.
Brown and scarred on each limb enduring
winter's vigorous attacks.
Breath by Breath
faithfully holding onto the ground with strong, fierce roots
ever in peace hoping the cold winds don't come again.
That's a ridiculous thought the cold winds never cease to come back only for a moment the Earth stands still free of the cold, but the cold winds come back defiantly every time bringing winter storms along with it's brisk attitude. The tree may transcend the winter, but it still remembers all damage the winter ensues as spring enters in all it's warmth, and future growth to the tree's scorned figure.