You… you’ve got a lot going for you
You’re famous, you’re smart, and you’re powerful
but you are ugly.
You think we can’t see the evil under that gaudy, outdated sweater
but we can.
You think that fancy perfume you wear hides the scent of terror
but it doesn’t.
You think the makeup you put on daily covers the pure pain written on your face
but you are dead wrong
bipolar, you are hideous.
Sometimes, though, that’s easy to forget
when it feels like I can do anything
the world is my oyster. When I feel that ungodly fake happiness
that masquerades as wellness, when I’m with you
and I don’t want to leave.
That’s when you have me. Then you take the opportunity
to torment me.
The façade is gone, and it all comes rolling through the gates.
You scream a thousand voices into my head
you bind my body and I can feel your merciless crushing grasp
you convince me that everything is good, it’s not bad,
it’s bad, it’s not good,
this is good, that is bad, I need to say it over and over and over again
you take over, and I don’t stand a chance.
My peace of mind is gone, and my humanity is soon to follow
How did I let this happen to me? I’ll never know
but I’ve learned this:
You do take no for an answer
and I have a lot more control than I thought.
If I ask you to stay away, you’ll ask me why, and I’ll tell you
because I want to be better
and as long as I let you anywhere near me, I will always
be stuck here
on this nightmare of a rollercoaster.
So you accept that, thank God
thank you, bipolar, for setting me free,
at least once in a while.
I feel less alone without you because
I can love more fully, for longer, forever.
I can accept my imperfections rather
than suffer in the desire to be rid of them. to be rid of you.
I can be still and know
that it is ok.
I’m ok, you’re ok. and I intermittently have my **** together.
I’m sorry things are not working out between you and me,
bipolar disorder.
but I’m not sorry that without you,
my life is ******* beautiful.

I am overwhelmed by the beauty of your spirit,
your voice,
your emotion.
When I hear you sing as though no one else is around, I need
to catch my breath.
When your hands touch the keys of your little electric piano, I feel
more emotion than I thought was possible.
You are so beautiful
so close
yet so far away.
I know, that's cliche,
but how can I come up with the right words when my mind is
full of nonsense.
Because I am overwhelmed
by you.

She is not your ordinary girl, eighteen years and seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. She’ll be flipping her rose-colored hair with every laugh and smile you give her. Every moment that makes the world what it is, she’ll be a co-creator.
There is nothing richer than the happiness she feels when you come to her. Nothing more sincere than her pride in you for reaching to her. Unlike the rest, she expects nothing, and sees the beauty in everything, no matter how small.
She’ll be with you when the walls fall down. The room is fragile, and when it starts to crumble, people run. It’s empty, as it should be. You can’t leave. She chooses not to. She stands there and holds you when the roof caves in. She keeps you warm when there’s nothing left.
She’s not here to rebuild anything, nor prevent the next catastrophe. She doesn’t move from beside you, despite everything inside you, she is your angel, with invisible wings and a halo of flowers.

We live in an ocean of agonizing existence
Some have found a boat and would take it for refuge, who wants to get one’s feet wet when emotion is too deep and cold? Some can manage the treading, their hearts light enough to float, and hands free to take in the water and the air at once. But yet there are some in the waters less calm, where the breeze turns to raspy tempest and the dance of the waves is no waltz. They sink constantly lower into an ocean as bottomless as their heart within, where nothing can touch the surface.
what hurts more than a heart that cannot feel? When the floaters and sailors take of you and your joys and tragedies and you cannot even tell them it hurts because you understand emotion too much to fall in love with it again. I was in love with a world that had lost all sight of me.
and so I ran.
For in the rush of a run in its humble exhilaration, there is new life.
When the ice in the air in the winter in the lungs is melted and evaporates. When the muscle in the leg in the body of the you is commanded, is tight, but defies and works and relaxes.
You have nowhere to go but you are going. and it is miraculous wonderful.
And stop. I spotted a playground, deserted for the frost had taken it captive, and a swing invited me in. I looked around… and the world stopped.
Silence. White cold and precious silence and nobody there to break it. Beauty. The one true, undeniable beauty of nature and serenity and life.
Now that was the moment.
I realized that there would be an infinity of these moments of wholeness and totality of love that would fall into my life and I will be a fool to give it up.
And I felt again.
The first emotion to come back to me was revelry.
It was dark at the bottom of the ocean and night’s about to fall on the surface as well but I cannot grasp the prospect of anyone ever being ****** down by that whirlpool again.
So I ask you my darling if you would get off your boat and take someone’s hand and squeeze it like you squeeze the sour sting from a lemon. And there will be sweetness. There will be a waltz, there will be windows in the sky and we will make an island of humanity. I don’t know what crazy song is singing to me now but there is hope that it will be righteous.
And for the first time, I can feel it.