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18.8k · Oct 2014
Loving Someone Who is Bipolar
Mia Pierce Oct 2014
Falling in love with someone who is bipolar will never be easy.
There will be minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months where I'm unexplainably mean, or recklessly happy.  
For a period of time, I may be all over you and want to smother you in my aforementioned reckless happiness, that I will forget to ask how you're doing and if you ate anything today. I will forget that unlike me, you need to sleep for 9 hours a day and that you're not fully ready to take on the world.
At some point, I will take a turn for the worst and will mope in unbelievable sorrow due to the death of my false happiness.
I will cry about everything and will stop calling, and forget to remind you that I love you so much and just need some time away.
My deep sadness will soon turn into unrelenting anger and I will tell you abusive things that I don't really mean.
I will be confused as to why I say them, and apologize a million times and try to explain that I can't control my anger, and that I need to leave and be away from people for a while, although I know nothing will really help.
You will insist that it's okay and tell me you love me.
For days, weeks, or months, I will do this, and you will soon think I am lying and think that I am just genuinely terrible.
My constant apologies will become nothing and you will soon distance yourself and start falling out of love, but still have a glimmer of hope.
After this episode, I will have a period where I feel nothing and am almost robot-like. You will feel unwanted and unloved and look at me with such sad eyes and get nothing but a shrug and a half-assed "sorry."
When you finally walk away,  I will have more bad days than good days because I will regret not saying I love you more.
I will hate myself for being bipolar. I will fall back into my bad habits and soon you will be a distant memory.
Mia Pierce Nov 2014
During my manic episodes, you found me fun, fervent, even amazing. You told me that you wouldn’t trade my love for anything.
You told me that I made the butterflies dance in your stomach,
and made the demons disappear in your head.
With every “I love you,” there was a smirk and a kiss.
You told me that I was one of a kind
and you’d be there for me no matter what because you couldn’t imagine living without me.
After my first bad episode, you started telling me that my love was overbearing and you needed space.
You told me that you felt suffocated and I was like a child craving attention from their mother. You told me I was too repetitive and you just wanted to go get high.
Every time I said “I love you” you looked at me, shrugged, and said “me too.”
I asked you what happened to “forever” and you said only sane girls keep their prince.
You acted as if I got to pick and choose what disorder I wanted. As if being bipolar was a luxury I wasn’t taking advantage of.
When you got sent to a mental institution for attempting suicide, I searched for you for six hours until your mom told me where you were.
After you returned,
I helped you find yourself again and lost myself in the process.
I sacrificed everything for your well-being,
and you had no interest in mine.
You made me believe that being bipolar made you a terrible person, but then I looked at you with tearful eyes,
and got a peek at what terrible really is.
Thanks to you, I know who I am.
Super quick poem.
Mia Pierce Nov 2014
I realized that I only miss you when I'm high.
I'm always high though, so maybe I'm trying to prolong your stay and torture myself with the thought of not being able to have you again.
I am realizing even more now as I write this, that I only miss you when I'm high.
Maybe I just want to remember you and pretend to be able to feel you again.
I mean, you were my first love, after all.
2.8k · Oct 2014
Hate
Mia Pierce Oct 2014
The hate in my veins
Starts to flow like cold water,
Numbing my body.
1.4k · May 2015
A Poem About Us
Mia Pierce May 2015
When I was in an abusive relationship, I told myself I deserved it. I told myself I should be more obedient, as if I was a dog. My leash was held so tight that I couldn’t muster any words out even if I wanted to.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I soaked in every insult and only ever released apologies.
When I was in an abusive relationship, some days I flinched when he raised his hand or began to speak and other days I just sat there waiting for it. When my mom would ask about the bruises I would be surprised because I didn’t know my body was still reacting to it when my mind wasn’t.
When I was in an abusive relationship, tying nooses was a nightly thing and nothing to even be alarmed about, blood stained sheets were the norm, and suicide notes were just normal letters.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I took many different kinds of drugs throughout the day and didn’t really know which combination would **** me. Would the coke, Xanax, and alcohol **** me? Or would it be the alcohol, ******, and oxy?
When I was in an abusive relationship, all concern for myself vanished. As my addictions to many different pills such as Xanax, ******, Hydro, Oxy and many more grew, I started to smile again.
When I was in an abusive relationship, being asked how many drugs I was on was not rude or unexpected.
When I was in an abusive relationship, leaving permanently just didn’t seem like an option.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I had unconditional love for my attacker and always made sure he was okay even after he hit me.
When I was in an abusive relationship, one day, I had a revelation and found my voice.
Now, I am no longer in an abusive relationship.
TW**
670 · Jan 2016
A Year Ago vs. Today
Mia Pierce Jan 2016
If you asked me where my life was a year ago, it’d probably come as a shock when I said I was looking for death in a ******* fueled euphoria at endless parties, hoping every person who asked, “Are you okay?” would save me from myself.
If you asked where my life was a year ago, I would say that a lot of days were hazy because Xanax was the best way to forgive and forget, and at that point, my body hurt without it.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I would tell stories of how I left my abusive boyfriend just to become my own abuser, and how I left far more marks and scars on myself than he ever did.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I’d mention how heartbroken I was and how badly I searched for love at the bottom of endless liquor bottles, and how I never quite stayed awake long enough to see if even a glimmer of love was there.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I’d tell you I spent a week or two very sick trying to get the drugs out of my system so I could see the sadness in my parent’s eyes disappear when they looked at me.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I’d tell you that my mental health dilapidated, and that I spent a night swallowing pills until it landed me in the hospital. I’d tell you that I unfortunately didn’t meet death that night and mourned over the loss of my sanity and what could’ve been.
Now, if you ask me how I am today, I’ll tell you that I still get very sad, and there are still days I want to die; However, I’ll also say that I am clean, and my parents are proud, and I found very healthy love, and I found myself. I’ll say that I realize the gasp of air you get when you finally come up from drowning is the best feeling, and things get a bit brighter.
TW
558 · Oct 2014
Today
Mia Pierce Oct 2014
Today, you texted me and told me you had *** last night. Like the many times before, I brushed it off and said, "good job."
Today, you texted me and tried to break my heart again and make me feel exactly how you did. It didn't work though because my heart broke long ago when you told me about when you cheated on me, and since then, it's been an empty cavity.
Today, when you couldn't break my heart by speaking so fervently of the new girl who was now the apple of your eye, you tried to butcher my self confidence. What you didn't realize was, I've grown callous since we last spoke, and the confidence was never really there anyway.
Today, you texted me and tried to hide all your visible pain behind "I hate you's" and " I never loved you's."
Today, you thought you'd crush all my happiness, but didn't realize that I used all my happiness weeks ago to lace your marijuana beccause you smiled more at a joint then you ever did at me.
Today, you tried to **** me a bit more than usual and got angry when your words didn't seep into my skin and poison me.
Today, I did not cry over you when the words "I love her" popped up on my screen.
Today, I admitted I'm still in love with you.
But today, I also stopped caring about you.
A poem for my ex.
Mia Pierce Nov 2014
I used to cut my wrists because I hoped the answers would spill out with my blood.
Ironically, I wasn’t really trying to **** myself, I just really wanted to find a reason as to why I should live.
I used to cut my wrists because the blood seemed to wash away all the pain from yesterday, and prepare me for the next.
Ironically, while I was killing myself slowly, the deeper I cut, the more I began to realize how much I needed to breathe.
I used to practice tying nooses because I was trying to figure out what I was doing wrong and why it never seemed to get the job done.
Ironically, I didn’t want to **** myself because I had nothing, I was trying to **** myself because I felt there was more opportunities in the afterlife.
I used to be a very sad and confused child who seemed to almost chase death.
Ironically, on my slightly suicidal adventures, I felt very alive and every racing beat of my heart made me remember that I am no different from any other human.
I used to chase a bottle of pills with ***** because I thought it would be a good tonic.
Ironically, when I’d lie on the bathroom floor with tears rolling down my cheeks, throwing up blood and food, I’d laugh because it showed how mortal I was.
I used to play games with death and laugh when I beat him.
Ironically, as much as I did want to die, I wanted to be alive more--feel alive. Feel like a ******* human being and know that I’m just as vulnerable to death as everyone else.
I used to cut my wrists because I hoped the answers would spill out with my blood, but I learned that*  **the answers won’t ever be found there, no matter how deep and hard you look.
**Trigger Warning**
555 · Jan 2015
FIRST LOVE
Mia Pierce Jan 2015
I once fell in love with a boy who smelled of stale cigarettes, liquor, and burning desperation.
The first secret he ever revealed to me was that all he knew was being alone and running from everything in this world. At the time, I told him I’d be his rest stop and didn’t realize that he’d eventually have to start running again.
I once fell in love with a boy who had suicidal tendencies and often never slept.
With tired eyes, he would tell me he just wanted it to stop and would cry to me for hours.
I once fell in love with a boy I'd do anything for regardless of the consequences.
I once fell in love with a boy who had no family.
Many days, he would call me in the middle of the night and tell me how much he cherished me and how much I made up for his lost family.
I once fell in love with a boy who was desperate for love, but couldn’t give it because he was at war with himself.
All his empty “I love you’s” were believable, but I wasn’t properly trained to fight his demons or to take down the walls he built up so high inside of himself. The weapons I tried to provide were too outdated and did nothing.
I once fell in love with a boy who hated his mother.
His hate for her was often reflected back onto me, and I spent many nights crying.
I once fell in love with a boy who would tell me the sweetest things, and be able to turn around and leave me black and blue.
I once fell in love with a boy who sold drugs.
I worried about his safety, but he very often assured me nothing would happen and would kiss me then thank me for caring.
I once fell in love with a boy who was terrified of being a failure and was driven by money.
Many days, I would go ignored or mistreated and he would apologize to me by buying me opulent gifts that didn’t really make up for the small heartbreaks I endured.
I once fell in love with a boy who did not care about me, and didn't even check to see if I was okay when my heart broke.
I once fell in love with a boy who knew he was destined to run away and break my heart.
The first secret he ever revealed to me was that all he knew was being alone and running from everything in this world.
At the time, I told him I’d be his rest stop and didn’t realize that he’d eventually have to start running again.
When he was finally strong enough to start running again, I wasn’t really prepared for it because in the months I'd spent with him, I'd grown selfish and wanted him by my side forever.
I thought he’d stop and rest forever because it's far easier to stop and do nothing, but I had forgotten who he was and forgot that I had been helping him train so he could run towards something better instead of running away from his past.
I once fell in love with a boy who ran off with the best parts of me.
I just hope you're happy now.
512 · Jan 2019
Lie to me
Mia Pierce Jan 2019
The way you lie to me is so addicting.
I know it's an intoxicating oversaturated sweetness, but if I want it to be true bad enough, then it could be, right?
487 · Oct 2014
Falling
Mia Pierce Oct 2014
You fell like the leaves,
And wanted to see me hurt,
Exactly like you did.
Mia Pierce Jan 2019
How do you find your voice when you've been drowned out for so long?
How do you accept the help you're screaming for if you feel like everyone's against you? If people have been against you your whole life?
To be able to get up and shower or get ready is something I long for. To not feel so ******* bleak. So ******* useless.
I'm like a bad joke that everyone always laughs at. That everyone dumps their baggage on to later abandon.
Why did you tell me you love me if you didn't mean it? Why did you tell me I meant something if you knew you'd leave me a day later? I'm a joke people know they can get away with laughing at because I'm too ******* meek and nice to tell them otherwise.
Putting other people first is all I know. When will I start to take care of me?
I'm sorry I'm not enough mom. I try so hard to be everything you want. I try not to relapse and I try not to hurt myself, but the thoughts are getting darker and you don't notice me unless you
want to ridicule me. I'm so sorry I'm not how you want me to be.
I've felt not good enough since I was a small child and I don't think I can hide it behind doing good deeds for others anymore.
I think it's time for me to leave.
I'm so sorry.
173 · Jan 2019
Throw away
Mia Pierce Jan 2019
Why am I so easy to forget? So easily used as a tool to heal others, so it’s seldom that someone stops to ask if I need any help. I’m not the girl people love, I’m the girl they use. Who wants someone so damaged? So used? How do I begin to heal if I keep allowing people to tell me empty sentiments? If I allow people who just say they love me to have my body and mind? My thoughts have gotten darker since we last spoke. You told me you couldn’t ever be attached to someone who is so troubled, but you still told me you loved me. I often wonder if there’s a god and if he hears me begging at night to help me. Whether it’s ending my life or helping me see the light or whatever other cliché religious people tell me. I say I want to be okay, but I keep allowing these people to have me. To use me until I’m too broken to be beneficial. I miss you so much. God, are you there?
More rambles during an episode.
161 · Jan 2019
More Rants
Mia Pierce Jan 2019
What is it about me that makes me so easy to throw away? Why do I love all the people who need me to make them feel whole and who will leave me as soon as they’re healed? When will I learn? When will I begin to heal? When will someone take care of me? When will I take care of me?

— The End —