People get confused
when I say I have two brains.
It’s not my fault;
it drives me insane.
When I think I look good,
the other side turns it down,
making me insecure
and making me frown.
When I think that life
is getting good,
my other side ruins it all—
telling me to end it
and to make the knife fall.
When I think I have friends,
my other side says it's fake;
it takes what's not its to take
away from me.
When I think I’m fine (but I’m not),
my other side calls.
Reality hits,
and into my relapse I will crawl.
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 5:59 PM UTC
People get confused
when I say I have two brains.
It’s not my fault;
it drives me insane.
When I think I look good,
the other side turns it down,
making me insecure
and making me frown.
When I think that life
is getting good,
my other side ruins it all—
telling me to end it
and to make the knife fall.
When I think I have friends,
my other side says it's fake;
it takes what's not its to take
away from me.
When I think I’m fine (but I’m not),
my other side calls.
Reality hits,
and into my relapse I will crawl.
This is how it feels to be bipolar
