Popular people want to recruit me to their ranks.
I am best friends with nerds so no thanks.
I rather not bleed my heart out to people who eat my pain like chocolate at a cafe'. Sure they changed hair color but not skin. I am naturally lightly tanned because I don't need bronzor tanning lotion. I have fair pale skin. In the winter you can tell that I don't go outside that often. I don't go to the beach nor pool all that much if I do my swimsuit is modest. I hate the idea of even wearing a bikini. Just because I am skinny doesn't mean I should fit societal norms. And I have heard of all of the skinny jokes there is throughout my lifetime.
Skinny shaming me won't fix your life so try me I dare you. I break barriers of society's walls because it fun proving people wrong. You underestimate me and I make you eat your words. Don't bet against me because you will lose your money. Invest in me emotionally and I will become your part time therapist.

I don't give access to many because the few I have in my life is enough. I hide behind my words because my actions confuse a lot of people. Politics in SGA ran high it was like walking into the lions den on purpose. I got tangled into the politics even more so when I slept with Chelsie then dramatics spread like wildfire. People wanted to think for me. People spread rumors about me. I got so many curious glances from people I didn't know. Once the fact I lost my virginity got out to the public, it went through my college and ended up in my small town.
I don't give access to many because when I express myself I don't know what to say. When I think it's jumbled like earphones. I don't where many of them come from. It's like sorting clothes, some are old, some are new and most of them are random.
I don't give access to many because radio silence make me feel bored. I have to listen to something to think clearly.

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.

If I am being honest, I am good alone. I know what to expect.
I enjoy taking the time to write my poetry and reading the books in my room.
If I am being honest, I have never felt more free than I do right now. I have my work friends and my family.
If I am being honest, I don't know if I believe in: true love or God. I know true love exists but I am good alone. I don't know if God even cares about me.
If I am being honest, working at a thrift store isn't the same as working for a newspaper as a journalist. Maybe one day I can go back to college for journalism.

If Love is a Measure then the world have fallen short because it is full of hate.
If Love is a Measure then envy is overflowing in people's hearts.
If Love is a Measure then selfishness is what people nowadays benefit from.
If Love is a Measure then divorce and cheating is happening more often in this world.
If Love is a Measure then unrequited love is devouring the hopeless.
If Love is a Measure then change must be required of the true to enact
as the guides of the lost.

I found the old you in a letter. You had so much humanity.
I found the old you in a letter. You were afraid to lose me as a friend.
I found the old you in a letter. Too bad you turned into someone I didn't recognize. You used to be a sweet guy then college turned you into a monster.
I found the old you in a letter. Maybe you were always a monster but I couldn't see it in your handsome dark pink smile and charming blue green eyes.
I found the old you in a letter. Truly I am sorry our friendship didn't last forever. But you were trapped in your misery and you wanted me to be miserable with you. When honestly I was trapped in your world too long so you lost me at your monstrous ways. When you lost your humanity, you lost me as a friend.
I found the old you in a letter. Why couldn't you just stay a sweet guy? The answer is I don't know.

In middle school I desperate to in fit but still be myself. I had a crush on a popular girl who eyes were turquoise. I sat next to her in my clarinet section for 7 years. I wrote her letters until I gave up on the hope of her writing back. We had art class together. When I gazed into her eyes, I saw a good person. I am a softie for good people.
I watched her YouTube videos. I accidently Facebook stalked her. I had an obsession with this girl. My obsession was once about getting into a popular group then turned into genuine caring for her.
I saw her at college once she blushed when I glanced at her. I had dreams about her from middle school to high school. In high school I stopped caring about fitting in and just stayed myself. I figured I rather not change my personality to fit into a group that I know barely anything about. Yes my best friends were always the nerds. I didn't care about the status quo and I hated the drama that would occur with popular people which was everyday. I preferred the company of my friends. Sure there was some drama every twice a month. It was what I could handle. Being academically gifted didn't mean we nerds weren't impartial to dealing with anxiety and depression. It would take me forever to count how many of my creative friends deal with social anxiety. It's common to have to deal with anxiety.

If you ask me why I am turning on The Girl with Green Eyes. Well here is the short answer she is no friend nor ally of mine.
If you ask me why I wrote so much about her. It is simply because she deserved her rude awakening from me, her closest companion.
If you ask me why I want to hurt her reputation now it's because she deserves my resignation from the job of being her best friend.
If you ask me why I would ever do that to someone so spoiled. It is simply she never once understood me the way I understood her.
I know her true self like it's the back of my hand.
If you ask me why. It's a long story.

Being raised in a church since I was 7 years old and living in a religious small town no one ever told me about bisexuality, gays and lesbians. I knew they existed and I knew my mom was disgusted by them.
I became close friends with bisexual girls and a gay guy in college that's where I learned who I was then I did research on it. I learned the Bible passages that were against homosexuality were out of context and being gay actually isn't illegal.
Though my mom is still against anyone that isn't straight and my Christian friends still don't know that I am bisexual because I am not ready to be public about my sexuality yet.
My church is still Ignorant of people who are different from them.
There is nothing demonic about the lgbtq community. They are just weird, kind and compassionate people who accept that they can't change their sexuality.
My church's Ignorance of the Unknown is why I don't agree with their patronizing ways.

Growing up make believe worlds and narratives were my escape from reality. Movies and books had me by the heart.
I tried my best to ignore my mother's abuse with pretending like her calling me worthless most nights didn't hurt, playing Pokemon to be ****** in a world where I was a hero to all, using my talents to gather a crowd that would care about what I did, being disciplined by other adults at daycare because mom was working and dad letting us travel Illinois.
I hate pretending because I want everything to be realistic. I know surprising coming from a writer. Money have always been a problem with my family. I never got everything I wanted which was probably a good thing. Growing up in a rich Christian small town my family didn't follow trends. I got hand-me-downs from my older sister and I still do. My older siblings were spoiled by our parents while my little sister and I had to be resourceful, intelligent, mature, always two steps ahead of our parents and planning each day accordingly. Being middle class Americans isn't the worst. My atheist friend says that I am spoiled even though no I am not. My older siblings got to go to the colleges of their dreams on scholarships while my little sister and I had to go to a local college. My childhood best friend says that I know everyone in town even though I had to learn to be a social butterfly because of my extroverted family through experience. Social skills are keys to thriving in religious small town where being poor is frowned upon and being rich is expected. I may not be normal but I am weird enough to create my own tribe of trusted friends and allies.

I have done a lot of stupid things and you aren't one of them. I am an open book just in multiple languages. I don't have a bucket list.
I think about dying on my worst days but not to **** myself just in general. Anxiety leads to heart disease with exercise. Depression kills 3 in 4 mentally ill people.
I have done a lot of stupid things and I am not an idiot.
I am not my mental illnesses, I just have mental illnesses. If you are reading this I am the gayest girl in my hometown and a legend.

My ex-boyfriend thinks that I am the only person who can make him feel happy. He doesn't give anyone at his work a chance because he hates everyone he meets.
He thinks because I follow my parents rules that I am too much of an angel. He let me pick the places to hangout at. He means well and my parents don't know that he is emotionally abusive. My siblings like him. They just think he is a sweet guy.
I haven't told anyone because my family likes him since he is my friend.
I haven't told anyone because I don't know how to break the news to them.

I gave up on hate a long time ago. I have no grudges of hate left to care for. They were too heavy to hold so I forgave my enemies.
I learned to drop the baggage behind the past.
I placed a cape on my shoulders and learned how to fly.
When I gave up on my grudges of hate I was free of all that heaviness.
I tore off the blinders society gave me and learned to run wildly.
On the surface I am mild mannered, sweet girl with a silver tongue but beneath I am a crazy genius three steps ahead of the crowd with wits as strong as steel. I never needed validation, I just needed people I can call home. In a way my hometown isn't really home, it's the people I became best friends with that made it home.
I am vengeful because my past gave me motivation to be a good person, not because I ever want revenge on anyone.

I knew when I was younger that I wasn't straight because I had crushes on both boys and girls. I repeatedly fell for my best friends, they were different people.
I knew when I was younger that my brain overstimulated itself a lot making me crazy and openly expressing myself in the only way I knew how by writing every feeling in a journal. The journals added up over the years that labeled me a writer and a poet. Those are the labels I accept about myself.
I knew when I was younger that I could process a lot of things faster than the rest of the kids my age labeling me "mature for my age". I have always been told that I am a good writer and it took awhile to accept the praises I would get for my poetry. Every time someone would give me a compliment me, my mind would go blank and my little sister would thank them for me.
I knew when I was younger that I didn't care what people thought of me. My mom didn't like that so she always told me how to dress right, how to speak right, how to act right and how to be polite. I was raised in a church where being different was frowned upon. I pretended that I didn't feel lonely. I pretended that didn't feel oppressed for being me. I didn't care about talking to other church members because I don't trust anyone that I don't know.

I know I want good friendships which I already have.
I know I want a good family which it's dysfunctional but it's fine with me.
I know I want to eliminate anything that is bad for spiritually wise.
I know I want a lover one day but not yet.
I know I want a good career which I am developing with every ounce of my being.
I know what I want from life and I enjoy what I can. It's a good life sometimes dramatic, sometimes messy, sometimes complex and sometimes dark yet still worth living.

I fix every broken thing in my life: my closest friends, my family dynamics, my acquaintances perspectives and my church friends terms of validation.
I like broken things. They are beautiful in the mundane. They are bizarre and I enjoy what I can. I create social solutions in the matter of minutes. I am broken minded and broken hearted I guess that makes me the most broken of all of my things.
With a early deteriorating mind and manic depressive insanity anything that has a good soul to it is beautiful to me. I observe potential in people and sometimes I help them flourish as humans.
It's what I do. I do what I can but I never invalidate them.
I have seen the worst in humans and the best in people it's lonely sometimes. I get used to it. To be insane is to embrace what you can.
I like broken things. That's my thing and I live without regret for caring.

I know referencing Tessa Violet sounds cliche' but each day I get inspired to write poetry. The only reason why I am not ******* Tessa Violet because she is my friend and I know it sounds weird.
I enjoy my platonic relationships. I know not a huge surprise considering you know me Chelsie. I would rather be friends with my favorite musicians than you know do that.
Whatever Ken said about me isn't true. He hates everyone including liberal bisexuals who know what the hell they are talking about.
His puppy dog eyes aren't worth a damaged pen. I was repulsed by him and his political views. If I could turn back time I would have walked back into the SGA office instead of avoiding you.
Ken made it sound like you hated my guts and told me we were sisters. Even though being medicated and sane enough to vote, I can honestly say, "You could have just talked to me. I would have talked back to you." He gas-lighted me and lied to me for months. You never did any of that. Driving me insane is one thing but emotional abuse is another. There is a difference.

Troubled souls have good hearts. The weirdest, the dark humored, the misfits, the idiots, the unfortunate even the rebels hide a good heart in layers of personality and characteristics.
I look for good hearts because magnetic vibes sometimes attract the selfish, the self absorbed, the fake and the try hards.
Growing up in a church I could pick out the fakes just by how they acted around my genuine weirdness and spotted the real by how they lived up to their promises.
I look for good hearts in strange groups because I find the wonderful, the funny, the genius, the calculator, the wounded and the selfless travel in the same packs.
I look for good hearts because my anxiety caused me to break my own heart with expectations so I lowered my expectations and stopped judging people entirely.
I look for good hearts because the good is rare and the bad is a dime a dozen.

I lost my reading glasses and now I have to wait to go to Walmart to get new ones.
I lost my reading glasses and now I wearing these stupid blue light glasses.
I lost my reading glasses and now I am all sorts of bored.

My mom hates it when I make up stories and create lies. I only do that to survive her wrath. My Imagination was Infinite growing up as a kid. I could never reach perfect but I could reach weird.
I don't know how but I brought out the best in most people even those that popular people feared.

My perspective isn't based off of my emotions most of time.
I write because I am passionate about difficult subjects.
I may be insane but my voice is still valid.
I don't question what I can't control because I know I can't control my mental illnesses. I do research about multiple things when I am passionate about topics. I have a lot of wisdom because I learn so much from my experiences. I accept the fact that it is generational in my family to be narcissistic so I got rid of my ego entirely and just stayed empathetic. I got rid of my hatred and my judgemental aspects as though they were phases in my personality because I didn't want to be like the rest of my family. My grandma, my dad, my big brother and my little sister still have flaws but they aren't narcissistic.
I am a high functioning sociopath but I choose be warm and loving because I don't want to become bitter and heartless.

Changing roles in society is becoming part of your dreams and welcoming a new reality. I may not be a billionaire nor a rich doctor.
But I am a witty writer with a soulful heart. That's worth something in this fake, bitter, delusional and hypocritical society.
I know what it is like to not know if you are going to live because feeling worthless it is the worst.
People in this society don't know how to have an honest conversation about abuse, sexuality, love and hate. On the surface they are happy but on the inside they miserable. Why live like that? Do my writings make you feel uncomfortable? Good now you are using critical thinking. Use your feelings for something that isn't going to **** your soul.

I have my secrets. My family have their secrets. I don't wear a mask. They do. To live in the shadows is where the madness is.
The all-consuming fire of madness. To be mad you have to be brave. You have to be fearless, stubborn, determined, wanting to prove everyone else wrong about you and be dramatic to the point where it annoys people. To be unforgettable like a scar. To live with good memories and flashbacks. To drink poison and absorb sunlight at the same time. Madness isn't for the weak, meek soulless people. Madness is for people who collect scars like trophies, wear fierceness as though it's a jacket, stories spilling out of journals, endless therapy sessions and looking at the past in eyes to call it your nemesis.
In All Honesty, I am free of my chains, free of my distress, free of my emotional attachments to the past and I am not lonely anymore. I have an army of people I love and care for. I wouldn't trade my life for anything being a middle class American with mental illnesses is worth all of the madness.

Only a handful of people know that I am a demiromantic bisexual.
Imagine having crowds of people are only friends with you because you are religious and straight. Then imagine only having a small group of people knowing the real you. That's my life.
It's complicated and I don't trust a majority of people in my life.
I was raised in a church and with my rebellious soul, a curious mind so naturally I read anything with facts. I became a well read nerd and made friends quickly no matter their background.
I could get the truth out of anyone because my presence makes people feel safe and I am a good person.

Strength is evolving until you find the best you there is.
Being strong-willed doesn't just happen.
You can't pay for a strong mentality with money. You have to pay for it with your past and all of your sins in your heart.
You have to pay for a headstrong mind with every dark thought you have and over planned conversation you have ever lived through.
Being gifted don't just happen to people. Being gifted involve being called insane, delusional and weird from time to time.
It isn't an award you get to wear around your neck. It's a heavy price to pay for all those things. I should know because I am stubborn, headstrong and gifted.
I Never Said That Strength is a Treasure. All can say that being strong-willed isn't for the weak at heart.

I never thought people cared what I thought of and the words I speak.
I never thought people wanted to listen to my advice and my nerdy pop culture and book references.
I never thought being a creative writer and a poet would turn people's heads my direction.
I never thought knowing psychology, sociology and science facts based off of past random passions would have people wondering my hobbies.
I never thought I was worth genuine smiles and laughter from my closest friends.
Turns out I am worth it all. I am worth loving and caring even though I am a lot to handle. I am worth the warm hugs and real conversations. I am worth the confused looks and smug grins I get from normal people. I outsmart anyone that I don't trust because I am always three steps ahead. I can read the expressions, emotional signals and over inflated egos easily. I tear down walls with a single glance and meltdown glass doors of the soul with a thoughtful comment.

"There is an infinity between 0 and 1" - The Fault in Our Stars
To say that people are complex and weird but to say that fate is what draws us together is another. To be weird and complex is to have simple standards of good and boundaries set. To have fate known is to believe that Universe actually cares.
"Pain it demands to be felt" - The Fault in Our Stars
I love realistic romances because love at first sight is crap and anyone who says otherwise is kicking themselves into submission.
Perfection is unrealistic. The white picket fence is unrealistic.
Finding true love is about trial and error. It's trust, compassion, unrelenting forgiveness, grace, mercy and kindness placed into a forever friendship. Sure I am melancholy about love because I know what kind of person I am looking for but haven't found my true love yet.

The sound of pen against paper. It's like two lovers continually making love. An endless symphony of Ink Against Paper.
The Whoosh of the pen with each word. The growl of the paper.
The pen catching it's breath then returning to the paper. The smooth, gentleness of the pen and the fragile, firmness of the paper.
New worlds created with pen and paper. Business deals with pen and paper. Starting a job with pen and paper. Getting medical treatment begins with pen and paper. Beginnings are Ink Against Paper.

If you ask most of my closest friends they will say that I am Innocent and Pure. Most of them compliment me and praise me when I am not around. Life of a writer I guess. Helping people, giving representation to the invisible, giving a voice to unspoken people within politics and anonymously revealing the true colors of the seen.
To many I am a hero, to few I am a villain and sometimes I am just the rebel. Again depends on who you ask. I wouldn't say any of this if it wasn't true. Some stories have three perspectives, I know I sound insane but it's true. I never hide how crazy I am because it's useless. Eventually the truth comes spilling out like blood at a crime scene.
I prefer living in the light, emotional scars and all. So yeah I may be mad but I chose to wear my heart on my sleeves.

As Lewis Carroll puts Insanity, "You're entirely bonkers. But I will tell you a secret. All the best people are."- Alice in Wonderland
I know comparing myself to Alice Kingsley is very cliche'. But this is how I imagine myself on the crazy scale. I create worlds to escape reality and Alice always dreamt of a world where escaping reality to embrace her insanity is her muchness. As they say in the Flash, "I have always believed in the impossible. Then I became the impossible." I know those are two different stories. You can't compare a mad woman to the fastest man alive. Well it's creative rights so technically I can. Doing insane things is impossible. Being insane is perpetually making your own reality to fit the stories you hear about yourself. Insanity is allowing yourself to be who you are without questioning what you are. Being the first person to point out someone's reality without making yourself an **** is an art form. The strongest form any human can craft in. Insanity is doing something so crazy that no one believes you can do it until it happen then you are branded a genius.

Introversion is a state of a mind.
Introversion is freedom from expectations.
Introversion is taking chances and deeply thinking about life.
Introversion is respecting people's boundaries and being overly polite.
Introversion is getting close to people in short amount of time by being real with them.
Introversion is making people comfortable in your presence by valuing their thoughts.
Introversion is not a phase just because the movies want you to believe something is wrong with you doesn't mean there actually is.

I run through all of the situations even the impossible ones before I start talking to someone. I rehearse conversations to the people I want to talk to before I even say a word. If I want to ask for forgiveness I make a speech ahead of time. If I am going to make a fool of myself then I might as well be sincere while doing it. I read the room before I make a statement. I read the body language and the expressions of every conservation before I take the spotlight. I know everyone's job position just by looking at their clothes. I don't hold back my words so I never get to live with regret.
I overthink a lot, this is my anxiety that I speak of.
I overthink a lot, I know it's brutal honesty.
I overthink a lot, just give me a chance.

Through refiner's fire I am becoming more me.
Iron in the Fire, Looking into the past to launch myself to the future.
Iron in the Fire, Reading old letters and seeing what has changed.
Iron in the Fire, Glad I am no longer in the closet.
Iron in the Fire, And I feel more free.

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.

No one is 100 percent pure good and no one is 100 percent pure bad.
That is life. We can fictionalize, romanticize and fantasize life as much as we want but that doesn't change people nor the patriarchy.
I see the Good and I observe the Bad.
I grew up going to daycare when both of my parents were busy.
I grew up going to Pegasus Cafe' with my little sister every summer.
I grew up with parents who divorced when I was 7 but always supported my creative lifestyle and always put food on the table.
I grew up resourceful, artistic, special needs classes, lots of therapy which I appreciated because I became a strong, capable young woman.
I grew up with parents who always gave me Christmas presents no matter how poor we were because being middle class Americans doesn't mean I had everything.
I wasn't spoiled with past glory from cross country like my older siblings. I wasn't spoiled with hundreds of friends like my older siblings. I was just me the nerdy, book-loving, small group of trusted friends, video game addict, who have a vocabulary like an English teacher and will take all of the hard roads because they are more fun since anything that is too easy is never true.
Reality is crazy and fantasy is insane so to know the difference is through experience.

I babysit this grown man who is a sexist, depressive, boring and unusually suicidal for a scientist.
He is a complete idiot who don't understand communication and social interaction. Hence why I am his only friend. He is a year older than me. But he is immature, human and sometimes vulnerable.
He doesn't wear a mask around me. I know he is a monster, he is obnoxious and annoying. He keeps telling me he loves me and cares about me but I don't feel it. I refuse to think that maybe he will get the hint that I won't date and marry him. Because I have gave him the benefit of the doubt too many times which I normally end up hurt and more heart-broken than before. I won't end up a victim to a narcissistic man. I guess it's awareness or maybe it's me giving up on him. I don't know which. I am just not sure whether I want to burn the bridge or not.

It's my birthday today all want to do is see how my girl is.
It's my birthday and she gave me a love confession after all these years.
It's my birthday and I want to hug her even though she is my ex-girlfriend.
It's my birthday and she touched my heart again. I am not angry well I am insane. She brought out the best in me.
It's my birthday and want to spend the day in the mental hospital to see her.

As you can see he affects me every now and then.
It's my story not his.
He is the abuser and I am the victim.
He knows he is a monster and I want him to live in his guilt.
I shouldn't write about him so much but those things had to be said.
I didn't want to feel alone anymore.
Information among poets and readers is sacred.
He may be my friend but he deserves to have his secrets somewhere so I chose here.
We dated for a week, 3 years ago.
It's my story not his.
In a way this is justice.

It's no secret I love you.
It's no secret that those 4 nights together were spontaneous and amazing.
It's no secret we still exchange smiles.
It's no secret those dark blue eyes enraptured me into your beauty.
It's no secret that when we took turns smiling into each passionate kiss.
It's no secret that when you told the whole town about us that people in this religious town wouldn't understand.
It's no secret that your giggles from those nights are still in my mind.
It's no secret that I want to kiss you again.
It's no secret that we were together those 4 nights and I want you, only you.

It Snows and we aren't expected to stop living.
It Snows and we live despite the brutality of life.
It Snows and we live with our decisions.
It Snows and we live with ourselves.
It Snows and life continues whether we want it to or not.
We live with heartache yet we act like it isn't there.
We live with depression yet we act like we aren't lonely.
We live with anxiety yet we act like the tremors aren't there.
So live and stop acting. Face the feelings and be free.

One roof, lots of rules. Several rooms so many mental triggers.
Outside the house is freedom and laws. No one to watch every move.
It's Your Life Now Live, Our siblings are living lives separate from mom's grasp on our futures. We can escape every now and then.
It's Your Life Now Live, I know her rules are strict but someday will get out of this town. Whoever you become just let me support whatever you do. I am your big sister so I don't care what mom says you are amazing to me. As long as you are reasonable with you become I will do everything in my power to protect you.
It's Your Life Now Live, We are both creative so let's make the most of it. Don't get high too often. I will notice. Mom won't.
My little sister, I love you. There I said it. I don't say it often enough. I looked after you all of these years. Sure no one understands in our family why we chose our passions except our older brother. Being weird have perks.

It was you and me; now it is only me.
It was you and me, I hope he loves you right.
It was you and me; we were together for a month and a half.
It was you and me; our nights at my house were amazing.
It was you and me; I am glad you moved on and we are just friends.
It was you and me; I am glad neither of us regret what we had.

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.

I wouldn't change my past because it made me who I am.
I wouldn't change my past because I have grown wise and experienced from it.
I wouldn't change my past because as messy and complex as my life is I have lots of good memories as well as bad memories.
I wouldn't change my past because I don't want to be something I am not.

I may be a vengeful angel but I have a lot of demons from my past.
I always want to be better than my past selves.
I evolve each year sharpening my wits and accepting outcasts to my misfit army.
The misfits deserve a fairytale love so why not love them like they are a found family? All the best heroes have a found family.
I may not be a hero but I am a rebel with a big heart. I am not considered super because I am a special needs kid. People either want to smother me with support or treat me like I am normal when I am not.
There is no in-between. There are no cures for anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder and being a high functioning sociopath. There are medications and treatments but those can't get rid of mental conditions. The meds don't get rid of the stigma normal people put into society with harmful stereotypes.

In college I loved SGA, Writer's Guild and my gay friends.
Ken was determined to isolate me from everything and everyone I cared about. He thought if it was just him and I then I would care about him more. Or that I would randomly fall in love with him which never happened. He thought if I hated Chelsie then I would love him which didn't happened. My heart told me something was up but I didn't trust myself with all of Ken's mixed signals.
I was confused about him. I was thinking at the time, "If he tells me he loves me but still hurts my emotions without regard to my boundaries then he doesn't love me at all." Somehow I still stayed around. I want to go back to college. I miss SGA and Writer's Guild.
I still talk to my gay friends because they are amazing people.
I think without Ken I will actually be able to get my degree in the Associates in the Arts.

Dark brown hair, and dark brown eyes.
Dark pink lips and pale skin.
She slept with me for one night, months ago.
She liked how timid I was at church for Saturday night service.
She was so focused that night. She was gentle with me.
I still see her at church. After that night she got a boyfriend and nowadays she is married to that guy.
As the church would have it she became a virtuous woman for her husband.
While I am just myself: a bisexual poet.

Count backwards it doesn't work with madness.
Beg the mental meds to work in the dark of night.
Holding out a pocket knife when everyone is sleeping to debate whether to **** yourself or not.
Writing emotional letters to your best friend to make sure they won't break your heart.
Crying at youth group where people are watching you meltdown like butter on a frying pan.
Never knowing how deep the sorrow is in the hole in your chest because religion won't fill it up or get rid of the grief.

Last Night, my PTSD acted up kept giving me flashbacks putting into agony across my body from grief to paralyzing pain throughout all of my muscles.
Last Night, I couldn't breathe and had tremors. I kept rolling in my bed in pain and overstimulated from the flashbacks. By the time I could breathe I still couldn't get out of my bed without falling back into my bed.
Last Night, the fireworks brought back memories of last summer and my fear of being alone in the dark from when I was a kid. I talked nonsense into the darkness but I couldn't sleep. I was staring into the darkness and my pulse was still pounding in my chest at double time.
Last Night, It took splashing cold water on my face to throw up my dinner into the sink feeling my throat burning and all my weight going straight to my legs. Everyone was asleep because it was the 3rd of July and midnight. Me being sensitive to light and sound I never liked going to big social events to see fireworks and I loathed parades because the sirens hurts my ears but I always enjoyed the marching band. I always hated pageants because I knew deep down even as a kid that wasn't real beauty no matter how rich the kids were riding on the back of fancy cars. Pageants in the Midwest is what you expect drama, pettiness, vicious girls dressing up for a status quote show. The tiaras were plastic and fake much like the shows. The trophies metal and cold like the girls who were fighting for them. I was always bored at the interludes for the pageants. It's like no I may be beautiful but I won't put myself in a bikini so judges can degrade me on my thin, muscular figure.

My mom was overbearing as usual. I wanted to escape so I found my fictional paradise in my mind palace. I lost my mind. I couldn't rest or slept too much. I heard so many voices and I spoke back. I left hints for myself in riddles, some riddles were easy others were hard but I understood where I was going. Trying to find the doorway out. Three months I was trapped in my mind palace.
My house felt like an institution. My mom kept stressing me out. On my worst days I stayed in the house. On my best days I could outside my house. The medications helped. The doctors were nice. I still talk to my psychiatrist and my therapist. When ever my mom stresses me I walk around town. She goes with me to my sessions it's annoying. My dad normally is loving about that summer and calls me Crazy Brandi. It's endearing. He thought I was sleepwalking when I interrupted his sleep when I really couldn't sleep at all. I guess being overstimulated by bipolar disorder and anxiety is why my sleep schedule changed so much so often that summer.