I'm not well...

I know this.

I took these meds because I want to be better for them.

But I'm so ******* up that my pain lingers and clings on to thier lives.

I'm broken and I know its my past that pushed me into this life.

I took these meds daily in attempt to be less miserable for them.

Because my illness is not contagious, but taintable.

I want everyone to be free from what I feel.

I care so much about how they feel.

But these meds make me fat, and the bipolar in me can't a hundred percent be held back...

I inconvenience everyone with my sorrow and rage when I peek into thier world.

It makes me feel guilty and worthless.

I want to be what they want, to smile and laugh everyday.

Or just loose my mind and not care about anything.

Being social and anyone but me is what I'm supposed to be, but Im cursed with my life in my bedroom and failing my family.

I don't write to get anyone to understand.

I think I write this because, it's all that I am.

I'm sorry for the people who read these words and can relate...

Because your either stuck like me or have actually found your way.

I'm still gone as I breath and sit, and I hate myself beacause of the space I waste.

Just today I flushed my meds away.

Nobody should care, because I've never gotten better.

I've never been well enough for them.

Maybe I'll shed some pounds, but who cares because I'll be in my bed.

Maybe the difference in me med free will help someone see.

Even if it's just me.