My Bipolar Friend
Sometimes I envision my own death.
Is it selfish of me to leave?
Or is it selfish to force me to stay?
Is there a right or wrong?
Is there a good or bad?
Heaven is much too far & hell is much too close.
If I jump, I can finally fly.
If I overdose, I can finally sleep.
If I cut, I can finally free this raging river.
But who would find me?
Who would I scar?
Who would I break?
My legacy would be nothing but guilt, confusion, & if only's.
They would forever wonder, forever blame, & forever regret.
"She suffered in silence."
I do.
"She said she was ok."
I'm not.
"She lied."
I have.
I suffer in silence because my pain isn't as tragic as everyone else's.
I say I'm ok because there are no words to describe how I feel.
I lie because if they really knew what was inside my head, it would devastate them.
This is my disorder.
This my chaos.
And yet without it, I have no idea who I would be.
I want to feel better, but I don't want to let go.
I am my disorder.
I am my chaos.
My bipolar friend, don't abandon me now.
What is a life without highs & lows?
We've lived together for so long that I don't know what I would do without you.
I need you even though you use me.
I love you even though you abuse me.
Sometimes I win the battle & other times you come out the victor.
During the day, you keep me wrapped warm in sheets.
And at night, you kiss me with creativity.
I'm both drawn to you & terrified of you.
One day, I might lose the will, the hope, the strength.
One day, I might give in & give up.
Sometimes I envision my own death, but on this very day, I am fighting.
I am punching you back.
I am pushing you down.
I am surviving.
We are surviving.
My bipolar friend, I need you to trust me.
I need you to work with me, not against me, please.
We could live in harmony & peace as one.
I promise you that one day we will discover the correct cocktail.
I promise you that our therapy is not a waste of time.
You don't have to destroy me to end this ache.
We can heal these wounds... together.