A Bi-polar Type II

Do you know what it’s like to never be happy? To never really feel excited? To feel only a bit of energy in place of it. You get to feel a little productive, a little better, before the fall comes. It may only last a short time to feel good enough, before it’s blown away like ashes in the wind.

Then the crash, the downward spiral that sends you reeling. Reaching out trying to grasp at anything for stability, but it’s no where to be found. Nothing to hold on to, to keep the world from becoming shadows of it. The world seems to forget you, pass you by, and you’re left with the cold emptiness.

An abandonment, a feeling that sticks with you of everyone else moving on without you. That feeling that grips your heart and tries to fill it with it’s ink black despair. The very essence of hate turned inward, and staring back in the reflection of the mirrors. Barely able to look yourself in the eyes as past mistakes are dug up like graves. They creep from their slumber to sting, bite, claw, and tear away at your mind.

The worlds end has come as you wish for it, pray on your knees for the silence of it all. For some this can be the last road, the one before the end, this is nothing but a dead end. You’re lost and all you find is the precipice from which you’ve fallen. You look up and see that edge you stood not too long ago. That little bit of life that was breathed before the fall, and now it’s nothing but a memory.

You try to convince yourself of the lies. Tell yourself it’s only temporary, comfort yourself as you curl into fetal position and rock back and forth. There is no one there to tell you it will be alright. There is no one there that can nurse the wounds. It’s only you and that shadow that follows, and as it clutches you into it’s cold embrace. You wonder if you will ever be okay.

You look around at people, close but so far away. They move on by, ignorant of the plight. They simply have enough on their plates, to ask for helpings of yours. You may put it to words, tell your story, your problems, your life. But it’s all so trivial when said. Like a child’s whimpers and cries. It’s nothing more than the emotions taking you away.

Tell yourself any comforting thing, get angry, do something, try not to think about it. Yet, it continues to nag at you. To break you in half and devour the rest. Only to wait and hope that you may feel peace again. Its crushing your soul, breaking your spirit, and taking it’s toll, and all you’re asking for is a bit of salvation from it all.

Then, maybe then, you’re able to feel productive again. You’re able to smile and wave, and pretend like the darkness never stole you away. You get to think for a moment of something better and some value within. Before it rolls around again, and you’re left as the unvalued shell of flesh, only to fight once again to breathe again.

 

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