What do you do with yourself
When nothing is wrong,
But it feels like everything is?
The motions of daily life
Leave you numb and cold

You want to justify the feeling
Confirmation that the world is wrong
But you don't know what to believe
Your mind has lied to you before
So you sit in frantic silence
Restless and crazy

You know you should be worried
About something out there
But you don't know what it is
So you just worry about it all
Driving yourself mad

Once the panic in your flesh subsides,
Your mind continues on
Chasing highs of stimulation
Heart pounding and blood pumping
Desperately pleading its case

And all of this
The wars within
And beyond your skin
Leave you here
Restless and crazy

here's to a part of me
who could recite A to Z without taking a break
and another one that has to stop to think
what comes after G
G stands for "get well soon, i hope it won't tire you up", said me to me.

sometimes i talk too fast
i can't even breathe properly
my friends ask me what am i saying
because all they hear is wrecking noise in voice
i want to crawl into my system to fix what is wrong with me
to make me less complicated
and more tolerant to coffee.

tick-tock-tick-tock
it is always the end of the world for me
i already start writing my own obituary.
but guess what?
i am not always like this
sometimes the ocean in me is calm enough for me to live normally,
i just wish i get to know
when the next hurricane is coming.

Have kindness
And confidence.
Don’t forget to smile,
Laugh,
And have fun.
And remember
To always be happy
Even if
You’re not
Because everyone you love
Is depending
On you.

it is difficult
to live at the mercy of life
swinging mood to mood
craving some stability
to maybe make things alright.

I thought it was the weather
but in the sun, I feel the same
I thought it was my hormones
But the menstrual cycle is only part of my pain
I thought it was my location
But when I move, it follows
and when I try to change
I always revert back to my ways
Maybe it's just me
And I will never change
Tripping over my own feet
Until I can't get up again

Don’t tell me you know
What it feels like
When your own mind
Is your arch enemy

Don’t tell me you understand
What it means
To be a prisoner
Inside your head

Don’t tell me you know
The terror
Of thinking you are
Properly insane

Don’t tell me you get
Being enslaved
By compulsions
You don’t understand

Don’t tell me you know
About causing so much damage
To yourself
You are afraid for your life

Don’t tell me.

These are not things
You can pretend to know
Not feelings you can simulate
Unless you’ve been there

This space in between
Severely ill
And
Finally well
Is so full of confusion
This mixed bag of
Pain
Happiness
Heartbreak
Memories
Old habits tempting
Creeping up to pull you down
While you can see light ahead
Begging you to get better
These are the growing pains
Of recovery

I’m the cling-clang of coins in my pocket,
and loose paperclips in a desk drawer.
Like lipstick and gum in a lady’s purse,
I’m a kid’s toys strewn about on the floor.

When I walk my insides rattle about,
like a  janitor’s keys without his ring,
like groceries bagged by junior baggers,
I’m jumbled as a cat’s unraveled string.

I’m less ordered than a box of Legos,
or debris remaining after a storm.
Nuts and bolts in an amateur toolbox
click-clack and click-clack with even more form.

I’m just a package of random loose parts,
though the world sees me as perfectly fine.
Life is making order of that chaos,
but it’s my life and that chaos is mine.

Order 90---
I am hesitant to get my tray.
I sit down, open the box
And breathe in fumes of decay.

You are greasy, thick, and full of fat---
Everything that disgusts me.

My body hates you.
My taste buds love you.
My stomach can't stand you.
I have to get rid of you.

I hover over the water
Seeing my reflection.

White porcelain haunts me
As I take a deep breath...

And let the sickness consume me.