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Mar 2015
I have a heavy heart.
and there are days it's so hard to hold on to
that I want to just jump into a river of regret
and let it weigh me down to very bottom
so I can find peace again.
I wondered why you push away?
Why my ups and downs make you feel
like your world is being shaken upside down.
I guess, I'm just hard for other people to deal with-
it's funny because imagine actually being me.
I have a hard time dealing with myself-
dealing with the other side of me
that begs to be seen in mirrors and photos
and inside the hearts of others.
Why can't I find a good manic depression spoken word poem?
I ask myself as I search the youtube tags
and all the button poetry videos coming up with
only "The Future" to satisfy my thirst for validation.
I have a heavy heart-
some days you feel it's too hard to carry
and I begin to wonder if i can see a future with you-
but I can't even seem to see a future for myself
because I don't think I actually want one.
I don't want to die-
it's actually, I want to live
but I feel like I'm dying everyday
because my emotions take a noose
and tie it around my brain
and make a mockery of my self control-
I become a puppet to these emotions
and no matter how hard I try to pull away-
make something of myself and take over these emotions
they just push me down-
making a mockery of my heavy heart
and my control withers.
I sit alone in my room crying until 5am again-
convincing myself not to touch the razor
trying to convince myself not to take those pills
trying to reach out to someone, anyone to make it all feel okay again
but I come up empty.
So I called a hotline-
6am secrets syruping over my cellphone
into the receiver
into a complete stranger...
I had wondered when I lost everyone-
I had wondered where I lost myself.
See I sent out a search party for my self-control a long time ago-
but all they could find were empty pill bottles
and empty alcohol bottles lining inside my closet
but they never found me trapped there
underneath everything I've been hoarding inside my memory
for years now, I was buried there.
Some days I feel like I never escaped
like the old empty bottles are still weighing on top
of my heavy heart making me incapable of
seeing the light I have turned on for myself.
My manic depression
is like your favorite toy left in the basement
you get excited thinking about having that joy back again
but as soon as you try to go towards it
you're scared and panicked of what could come after you
and even when you get that courage to step foot onto
those stairs leading you to your happiness-
you stop, look at the darkness
and slowly turn and run the other way.
I will take back control eventually-
I will take this illness one step at a time
and hope someone will be there to hold my hand along the way
although I know this heart is heavy-
I am capable of carrying it alone.
Amanda Stoddard
Written by
Amanda Stoddard  United States
(United States)   
573
   Grady Tadman
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