seriously, stop —

i think between sips

as i edge into bed.

sighing, i stop

swallowing —

english breakfast,

my security blanket;

still strong after steeping

so many times today/

i set down my yeti

and try to relax

as i twist off

not one/

two/

three\

but four

separate bottles

in front of me —

wreckage —

if i keep up the caffeine,

i’ll never fall asleep,

i muse to myself

as i take each

pill with

tea —

//

i

jolt

awake —

suddenly —

the last hour

so clearly splayed

out in front of me —

to my horror —

not a detail

forgotten,

expertly/

reeling —

shaking —

rae, breathe —

i remind myself

as i aim to slow the

pools running down

both my cheeks —

i’m a monster,

i think —

no,

i truly believe —

i’m the one dreaming

them! i must be! —

petrified —

biting —

i give

in

and cry

hard over the

reels in my head,

unraveling —

weeping —

i cant

see

a way

out of the

hell i’m keeping

locked up; threads

i cant help but follow,

apparently — i’m

so tired; i just

want to

sleep,

i

sob —

seeping —

saturated —

it’s been a week

of the same theme —

i’m exhausted —

terrorized —

i lie in the

dark,

bleeding —

squandered —

seated closer to

myself than i’d like

anyone to be —

i’m scared —

teeming —

alone —

i pose

the

question

as the answer

prods at me: how

close to the surface

are our dreams,

actually?

today is hard/

i’m in pain/

i’m okay/

i rest my head

in my hands

as i sit

by

the toilet

for the sixth

consecutive night —

keep breathing;

keep it all

down,

i

think

to myself —

my stomach

lurches

and

i

swallow

hard, strapping

myself in for another

set of seconds

that cant

pass

soon enough —

i cant do

this

again —

i have to

do this again —

i lose focus and am

caught by surprise —

this concoction —

the cocktail

mixed

just

for me —

unconcerned

and unphased by

pleads for my guts to

return to normalcy —

im cornered —

convulsing —

i press my forehead

into my palms; i’m dizzy

and tired of fighting the surges

ripping through my body —

you have to keep it

down; you need

this in your

system —

i sit,

betrayed and alone,

surmising life would be

much more liveable if my

stomach or my brain

listened to me.

//

i lost a week of my life to mania.

i hallucinated through a week of my life, unaware of my surroundings and unable to care for myself.

i have pockets of 30 second memories across an entire week —

i dont remember days of my life.

i asked my family to stop telling me what i did and said bc hearing accounts of my behavior is too painful —

i wasnt myself. or i was too much myself — i dont know.

//

now i have to fight my way through new medications and its a nightly struggle —

in a lot of ways it feels like its killing me.

//

i lost a week of my life to mania.

//

fuck mania.

fuck bipolar disorder.

fuck lithium.

and i felt at ease

and i could smile

and laugh

and joke around,

but i never felt

happy/

i never

felt

happy/

“i never would have known you were depressed!”/

yeah, well,

i didnt want you to.

i didnt want to be seen, either,

but/

and thats a big thing.

thats a big thing,

i think —

you can be seen.

all the time.

whether

you

like it

or not, you

can be seen —

and, like,

what

the fuck?/

im serious, like

what the fuck?/

i didnt ask

for this/

im

not

ready

to be seen/

and yet

you

can see me/

and thats a really

hard thing, bc,

like, okay —

it must

be

really

awesome

to be seen all

the time

when

you

like what

youre showing

people/

it

must be

really awesome

to be seen all the time

when you dont

feel like

you

have to

hide/

and, like —

i didnt even realize

that i wasnt

ready to be

seen. i

didnt

even realize

it bc i, you know —

i felt like i was

ready. i

felt

like i

should be

ready, and so,

i was like,

‘okay!

here

i

go!

i’m okay

with this!!

i’m okay with

being seen!’

but then, really,

i wasnt. i

was

still really

afraid — like, so

fucking afraid of —

i’m not really

sure yet.

im not

really

sure yet —

myself, maybe?

my potential?

failure?

starting?

trying?

being seen?/

i think i was scared

of myself, which,

is really wild

bc, like,

jesus christ, woman, can you make nothing easy?

but

seriously,

no, i really think

i was scared stupid of

actually giving in./

i was scared

stupid of

actually

showing./

i was scared./

i am scared./

but im

working on

being less scared.

and im working on building

myself up so strong and

so full of health and

patience and

love and

i really feel like im doing it./

i really feel like im

doing it bc im

finding

how to

let life flow

through me.\\

im learning how

to give in to

time and

lean in

to

where

the day is

taking me —

flux, baby/

it’s not

about control/

really, its

not, bc

ive

been trying

to force

it,

kinda —

without realizing

it/ without

truly

realizing

it

//

if

i could

just wring this

right out of myself —

once and for all —

wrestling —

a dirty, mucky

rag all

sopped up

in loopy baggage —

if i could just

bear down and

grab it —

if

i

could just —

//

and it doesnt have

to be that hard.

it doesnt

have

to

be

that hard/ why

are you making it

that hard?/

why?/

//

i dont

have

to be

scared

when things

are easy.

i dont

have

to

hide

or force

anything or

try to be anything

or — i just have

to be seen.

and i

have to be

okay with being

seen. bc i

cant

help but

be seen — none

of us can./

so

instead

of coiling up

tight and hiding and

preening myself;

preparing —

i’m

caving in\

and i’m going.

//

yeehoo!

im growing!

im a super star!!!