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Shaded Lamp Mar 2016
Angelic choirs spring from the silence
Gravity comes from your presence
Shaking off my prudence
Sail towards my coast

Surely there is more to it than this
Trying not to fall into the abyss
The echo of an unmet kiss
Joy a passing ghost

Lonely island in a featureless sea
Unnoticed as you sailed passed me
Standing detached in the library
Dreaming of almost
jon Apr 2021
I’m toxic
A little psychotic
I take zyprexa, an anti-psychotic, I don’t know if it’s working
My own fault though, I keep self medicating
I take the pills they prescribe and they help but not when my mind is racing
Speed, it’s ironic really
Because it slows me down and I am able to function
I can show affection and my emotions seep out of my bones
But it causes everyone to leave me alone
Is it my fault? Is it something misdiagnosed?
I don’t know, I only know how I feel and I use when I don’t know how to deal
Life is roaring rapids, I fall out and slowly drown from what has a hold of me
I don’t know what else to do but self medicate
Its another thing I use, a crutch
When I can’t stand by myself and don’t reach out to anyone else
I’ve lost my mind, I tell everyone I’m fine
I’m always thinking of a line whether it be drugs or a rhyme
I’m not kind on the come down and I hate my entire being when I’m rude to my mom
If I were to have a clone I’d beat the **** out of myself and tell her what’s really wrong
She makes sure I have what I need especially when I wretch my sadness all over the floor
She never shuts the door in my face when I need a place, without her I would be misplaced
One night she was shrieking and it doesn’t matter that she was drinking
The feelings were in the air, they were something tangible that I could grasp without being an ***
I saw sadness, rejection, neglect, frustration, anger although it’s a secondary emotion and that’s what she uses to mask her raw emotions
I saw hatred, not for me, but the addict inside me
She’s the only one who doesn’t call me crazy, she lays in bed with me when I feel like I’m not in control
She does breathing exercises with me when I really just want to fall
I make a lot of commotion and she still loves me as her son
I am all of the above when on drugs, my heart still hurts but I’m full on love
My family and friends have been pouring it into me and that’s the only thing keeping me going
I’ve said it once, but I’ll say it again, without the love there’s no reason to be alive.
Without the love, it’s failure to thrive.
Without the love, I won’t survive.
My mom is my rock, she keeps me steady and let’s me take my time to tell her when I’m ready. This is for her.
Nothing Personal May 2012
I knew I was dying when you called.
I knew I had barely weeks left
when you said you wanted to meet.
Then came the big news
You were supposedly pregnant
and I was the father.
When on earth did that happen?
I thought a millennium had past
since we last dated.
Back then,
Men still used to hunt in woods
and live in caves
savagely eating each other
when time came.

If I told you all this,
your Catholic sentiments will be hurt.
I barely agreed to meet.

The sun did not miss the chance to disappear
Horizontal, bull like clouds bellowed past the golf course
and winds blew like a ****-storm of hail and blood
It all hurled on my face as I rushed to work.

I remembered how some and perhaps all children were born innocent
But they did not choose stay that way.
Some were caught cheating
some were mortally punished.

The omen was bad.
I met my boss at the boss-stop.
That murky bit of time when you know you
are working late to avoid meeting your boss
and yet ,
you would meet him and
he would stare right at you
a terminal stare.

I decided I will drink coffee
The sun came up
and a girl with beautiful hair
asked me out.
I told her
"Time is limited"
If you want grandkids,
tonight is the night"
She said she had ovarian cancer.
We went out.

I know I had cheated on you.
Maybe a couple of times in the past.
But not on rainy Thursdays.
Not when the amore wasn't with life
but with death.
But see ,
I did that too.

God graced me when the rains didn't stop.
And you did not call back.
All the oncologists were on leave
all headed to warm Florida beaches
They have seen enough deaths this year already.

I knew October was coming.
My dreaded October.
I decided to keep dating this girl.
And the skies decided to stay murky.

On a October morning,
when the sun shone
miraculously
you dropped unannounced to my house
and asked me to marry you.
I resigned to my doom.

A war broke in a Middle Eastern country
And somewhere else in North Africa.
China was shook up by a 8.9 earthquake.
Giant tsunami waves rolled up towards
the Eastern face of Europe.
Australia passed a racial law.

I died on 17th October.
They said without much pain.
Few came by to the funeral.
People decided to cremate me
and blow the ashes away.
There were few people who attended.

You gave birth to a lovely child.
My girlfriend found she was misdiagnosed.
They found oil.
Miraculously.
Stephen Spender got the Noble Peace Prize.
I did not see the sun shine that day, of course.
Chris D Aechtner Nov 2021
BLAST   —   direct focus on a terrorist virus
that swims in breath and touch,
in globules of spittle and ssnot see,
waiting to plant roadside RNA bombs
in nostrils—from flesh to newsflash fantasies

with

a Fear-O-Meter Lockdown grip
of Crisis Management Economics:
Gaslit Fiat economy crash test dummies
tested within psychosocioschizological
experiments of the psychobacteriological

transfer of power, control, and wealth—

stats data for thinktanks and simulations:
which strategies are best to get the peasants  
to willingly offer up their lives for an illusion
of safety and protection, what causes people
to remain compliant or to become renegades.

Capitalism, the revolutionary meant to usurp
Queens and Kings, corrupted into a negative
Technocratic Corporatocracy: a Royal Trash
death cult that feeds on its young, sacrifices
its youth to scams, wars, and stolen futures:

a Technocrat Herr Doktor drug pusher
that plies the skin of trial control groups
for the venom of Warpspeed fangs—wraps
its coil around a bundle of willow switches
supple with youth, its victims kept alive

as a fuel source to burn in the corporate engine, and kept weak enough to require another fix "For the betterment of the whole."

(Gaslighting fills mandated shower-coops:
"Trust us, you're sick, and it's your fault.")

Pollute people into isolation against an enemy that has never been truthfully isolated and purified—
an Orwellian leap of faith that breaks:
a crusher of foundational laws,
a crusher of critical thought and bones.

"Destroy (transform) your dreams, milestones, and livelihoods for your safety and protection. We are doing this for you. We care about you. These numbers, these awful numbers are your fault! You're to blame! It's all your fault!"

"Make sure to vote for me come next election."

As much as North America is a globalist,
the New World is also its own experiment.
Fortress North America: the Eugenicist Manager founded upon colonialism and slavery that outsources its crisis economics—
highly contagious, bit with its own snake oil,
an experiment observed to show symptoms
of AIDS, North America attacking itself
in many ways, symptoms of having been
grazed and groomed for decades

in contagion-based sociopolitical templates
that result in acquired bipolar autoimmune
disease: past enemies and geists attained
boosted immunity to defend, adapt—learned
to deflect Sun Tzu's Art of War into itself

with its own momentum. "Unrestricted
Psychological Warfare": a process of confusion and doubt that leads to the demoralization and dehumanization of the target enemy via the subversive tactics of propaganda plowing, cultural memetic warfare, the infection of economy, politics, military, scientific and educational institutions and systems—
cybertech and media espionage and warfare,
all of it leading to symptoms of extreme

polarization and social moral tribalism—
a decades-long psychological, physical
and spiritual draining of the enemy
into a weakened, toxic state, barely worthwhile to conquer fully. The enemy does the rest,

finishes itself off with:

Acquired (Red Auto)ImmunoDefiency Syndrome

Red CONtroll COVID-19 debt slavery—
pandemic crisis, CoVfefe crisis, energy crisis,
population crisis, climate crisis, racism crisis,
market crisis, war crisis, terrorism crisis,
ISIS is is cry sis in crisis and crisis
in crisis debt slavery to the State: Toadies

for the "New Normal" Big Pharma-Big Tech
mechanical heart engine that thrums
with a beat that Zooms in on, Zooms out from
false-positive test results amplified

and distorted into AIDS:

Amplified Information Distortion Syndrome

and

an Acquired ImmunoDeficiency Syndrome
in conjunction with a near-infinite number
of variables and determining factors—
an Auto-ImmunoDeficiency Syndrome of
body, mind, soul, and political systems
cruising along an acquired, contagious loop
of a negative-sense RNA socialist Autobahn—

highly contagious, highly experimental in
unprecedented moments of crisis and mirrors: reflections of reflections of reflections
amplified and bent
in sleight-of-hand misdirection and deflection with the virus holding a mirror's face outwards

while

an mRNA 'treatment' infects human cells
to conquer and command them to become
bomb making factories that create
SARS-CoV-2 S-proteins—yes, yes, "inactively" teach T-cells with double-think McCure-all bandAIDS to 'help' identify SARS-CoV-2 RNA. Understood. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction

(for the Terrorist within)

"Here's a fast-tracked vaccine that supposedly boosts the immune system that you're being commanded to weaken."

GMO sleeper cells and non-celled sequences
that can attain causality and symbiosis with
drug and antibiotic resistant organisms,
are sold as the cure that ills

and

misdiagnosed and misunderstood symptoms
of anything and everything
in-between that we've known and seen
are blamed on a laboratory Chimera:

the scapegoat terrorist virus designed
to be highly contagious and gentle to its host
for vaccine programs: Mary's Monster attaining the flame of life within
its Promethean host.

Who made who?

Who knew that the FDA NIH CDC
WHO-Fang North American China Flu Clan

flew the fear and media spread. "Wait for our
next update." Live TV, live virus

with billions of shortsighted treatments
adding ripples to an overflowing soup bowl
of trillions x trillions of RNA particulates,

inactive/active — off/on — negative/positive

Switch:

Spin PCR in the Petri dish:
One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish!
What a lot of fish there are!

This one has a little yellow star.....

("Mission Accomplished")
1 17 2021
We'll never move forward as a society as long as our children are left to die from abuse , sold for *** like a piece of meat , bullied by their peers and killed on our streets ..
Depression misdiagnosed by primary physicians and medicines that only help half of the affected , high suicide rates amongst our young civilians and soldiers alike , addiction rates that continue to spike .. When the nails rain down again we'll most certainly be caught off guard , zealots hung by their thumbs and water boarded will lead the charge .
Martyrs in shackles will fan the flames at the base of the tower once again ..
Woefully few ambulances will be available to minister to the dying , not enough heroes to answer their cries , political parties will begin their denial , those that remain will swear revenge against "the Cowards .."
A faith will be declared illegal and guilty , this time the Eagle will have zero pity ..
She will pursue the same mistakes of previous nations , attempt to firebomb the very soul of a civilization . The Crescent Moon has endured many military occupations , defended a long list of potential aggressors , their bones lie in antiquity , across her deserts and within her cities while the Lion , Eagle and the Bear scar another generation who will in turn castigate her enemies silver cities with relentless terroristic abominations ..
I witnessed the carnage in a dream , hate bursting at the seams , flowing like a river down city streets , sweeping the innocents into the storm sewer , oblivious to their screams .
We worry so much about nuclear weapons as we wipe each other out with pipe bombs and pistols , we fear chemical weapons while drugs are destroying our nation ..
I wonder how far the funds for one missile would go towards treating children with cancer ? The cost of one grenade could feed a homeless man  freezing on the street .. The price of one Humvee could provide shelter for the forgotten society tonight in this misguided nation of ours ..
Copyright December 6 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Brian Hoffman Apr 2017
Guarded we were kept in rooms like cages
It felt like prison cells for us to cave in
Screams burning our throats and lungs with spit stumbling out of our tongues in which burned like hell
The constant reminders that it's suppose to heal and help
But medicated up we were and I don't call that any sort of help
Lab rats we were the test
Pills and pills pour out over and over again
Our rooms guarded at night with little freedom we were locked in
And when we were allowed out we were constantly mistreated
For me I was misdiagnosed not once but several times which made me feel so defeated
After a while my mind went bleak and I lost track of time
Day in and day out everyday felt the same and I couldn't break the endless cycle it was a strain  
And being said everyday felt like a constant struggle to get "better"
But how can you get better when you're inside locked not able to see the nice summery weather
From what I remember my roommate clawed the walls like there were chains and shackles on his hands
He tore open his knuckles trying to break free but there was no escaping so we laid in our beds hopelessly
When it came time of night I got to call home I was high
The pills they had me on were not right
So I slowly broke down in my mind
A place to help one heal but it took so much time
I was scared shitless worried that I was finally out of my mind
Because I knew I was not in the right state of mind
One bad slip could have cost me my life
But when I was sent here it was all a lie
My mom told me I was seeing a new therapist, but here I lay institutionalized
The unfortunate Bipolar chaotic mind of mine
Once I was set free I thought I felt fine but
Weeks later sadness and depression yet again overcame me
Some pills and whiskey tried to take me away to heaven which I'll see some other day maybe?
That's when I sent myself back to actually try and learn something this time around I wanted to find my solid ground
At first it was hard because me and the guards watching us all didn't get along  
When I tried helping others there I was shamed for it as if it was wrong
How wrong can it be helping those who hurt and are helplessly unhappy like me
The guards were always pretending they didn't see a **** thing
People cried and screamed on their knees, snorting pills, and cutting themselves with anything they could reach
So broken so reckless so helpless one should pity
When we sat and discussed things in group therapy we were judged and mistreated
But I myself came to learn and grow
So from broken fragments I was able to rise which did feel better than getting high with the people I once called friends that after all this left my side
I didn't let things get to me I sat I listened I spoke dearly
The bullying of others didn't help me along, but I knew I'd get out sooner if I was nice and acted happy and didn't play and edge them along
There were constant fights which I had to split up
Some of the others didn't seem to care nor give a ****
But luckily for me and the few friends I made we worked together to better ourselves and get out of this place we found to be so ******
With the right state of minds we surly flew out of the cages we all grew
One by one we were set free
Hopeless birds we used to be
Bipolar drugs metal hospital fly high
ac Oct 2019
Maybe it's because I only come here when I get depressed...
And when I'm not, I think writing is stupid, and that no one cares, and that I was just pathetic looking for attention.

I started taking a mood stabilizer earlier this week after the psychiatrist told me anti-depressants won't work. They'll make me worse.

I have been going to therapy for my so-called depression for about 7 years... not continuously though, a year or two in between I thought I cured myself when I was hypomanic.

Anyway, I always refused to take medication for whatever reason, but in the past two months, I fell into a deep and dark hole that I thought I couldn't get out of and for whatever reason I told my therapist that I wanted to try medication.

I was referred to a psychiatrist and that's when I found out.

It all makes sense.
I hope the medication works.
I want to be normal.

So my depression all along was actually bipolar disorder. The entire time my hypomania hid behind self-help books, my ocd, my eating disorder, my anxiety, my high energy, my reckless decisions, my thoughts about how I was fine and making everything up, the false sense of happiness...

I only wrote when I fell into a dark place.

It all makes so much sense.
wolf mother Mar 2014
if i was a twig
maybe i'd be able to sleep

trunks are fussy
roots are cumbersome
and you, you are but the smallest bud
a dying breed, a life everlasting
see-saw my wood-rot rings
and make a use for me, will you?

i am nothing but oldwivestales and folk songs
with long-forgotten lyrics
and misread meanings

misdiagnosed
misused
mistaken for
missed
Anubis Aug 2020
Mental hospital doors swing open
The strap you down and feed you pills
Doctor labels your forehead BI POLAR
Admin sends your family all the bills
You get released during a pandemic
No follow up care ignites all your fears
You continue to write down your bible
You’ve been writing all these years
Writings of your own justified suicide
How your holy ways are the sacrifice
You claim visions of the past and future
You hear voices in the middle of the night  

You take your fathers gun

and drive away

Never to return home again...

Your sister who lives so far away
Never got to see you after your stay
Never got the chance to say goodbye
Now she sits on your bed and cries

Your sister finds your suicide notes
Filled with angry and feverish haste

Your sister buries you with so much respect

& she buries you with so much grace...
Based on a true story.
Daylight 4U2C Jul 2013
I'm not dreaming, I see it clearly.  
It's the haunting of a beautiful ghost.  
Without wings, but a clear, bright, white  
Sadly her story is misdiagnosed.    
No one knows how she died, or when, where, and why.  
  We only know what we imagined
But this never makes the good, girl, ghost cry.  
  She lives for us to love and care,  
no matter how sharp the thorns get.  
She wants us to know our weaknesses,  
she hopes we never forget.  
She's a legend no one knows,  
but we feel her pain,  
We, together, know her heart  
She can't live again.  
A beauty to bright the darkest path,  
  A life with ups and downs.
A tragedy more cruel than Romeo and Juliet.
   When the balance of life drowns.
The death of her was the death of me.
The pain,
    I felt it too,
A true dream that's heard when an angel sings.
only the biggest heart can see
  The most beautiful thing in the world,
        The Angel Without Wings.
Ottar Feb 2015
Forecast was for rain,
Misdiagnosed a pain,
What we got was mist,
That hung in the air, tiny cysts,
That clung, to pant legs,
To sleeves, to skin and
To the glasses, that beheld
Them,
Like spots before my eyes,
As all passed through them.

The Collective heaviness,
Was not felt but the steadiness,
Of the curtain after curtain of,
Droplets on fine twine, some seed
beaded Macrame, threaded not
Threatening, to pass the time as
You pass their way, they keep the
Peace
And soak you as an afterthought.
Hippies dripping in love,
A mist for the generations.
We have had a little constant rain ...lately, often.
NickBlockOneLove Dec 2015
Cannon made of fire
Brought down all the people
Yes it was because
we were never equal
Standing on the sun
The flames you can keep em
Fighting for their right
The shadows and the lamp posts
Broken and fade with time
Overnight
All misdiagnosed
What is this crime
What is this crime
Keep the weak oppressed
Make em climb the mountain of time
Only to tumble
Just to feel blessed
Inclined to confess
Every time that they crumble
Now they can impress
Eucalyptus
Ha, that's just a plant
But it can leave you breathless
A simple little way 
They find it enchanting
Now let me compress
My means and thoughts
All these things we possess
All the material
Then the Mental
And some Spiritual 
Control all the people
Some mythical creation
Love one another
I can tell you
Is what you need to profess
Wk kortas Jun 2017
I have long since forgotten his name
(He was only around for my sophomore year at Dear Old State)
As he was universally known as  “Coal Miner”,
Being of all things, a geology major,
The nickname being buttressed by one heroic drunk
In whose aftermath  he brought forth, all Vesuvius-like,
A dark concoction of dirt, twigs, and some small bits of stone,
Though by and large he was reasonably diligent in his classwork ,
Maintaining his drinking and general decorum
Within sensible boundaries
Not adhered to by the general run of dwellers
In our brick bungalow of doubles and triples.

One perhaps-it’s-truly-Spring day just before finals week,
The Miner went off in an in aberrant and inexplicable rampage,
Replete with wall punching, blood letting,
And annihilation of light fixtures
Which spilled out of the dorm, across the academic commons,
And ended just inches from the Dean of Students himself.
It was the last any of us saw of The Coal Miner
Before he and his disappearance rode off together
As the stuff of undergraduate legend.
We later heard The Miner’s mother had died
Suddenly, unaccountably, down in Cortland,
Succumbing to some rare and misdiagnosed malady
(To be fair, it was one of those illnesses
Beyond the experience or worldview of small-town hospitalists)
And, with her, all his means of support, emotional and otherwise
Vanished like so much ash blown away
From the site of some ghastly fire.
To disprove the theory that God only sends us what we can stand,
The college regretted to inform him
That they were unable to provide
For the unfortunate contingency at hand,
And as such, his only mildly distinguished academic career
Was brought to an abrupt and unfortunate end.

We later heard he’d told one of the coterie of security officers
Who had wrestled him to the ground
(Thus preventing the Dean’s untimely
Though likely unlamented end)
That one of the faded, clumsy portraits
Depciting long-dead medical directors
Lining the entranceway corridor of that hospital back home
Had actually hissed to him
What do you want from us?  We’re only men, after all.
(He’d been in the full-blown midst
Of his shock and grief at the time,
So the possibility of hallucination certainly couldn’t be discounted)
And one of his hall-mates swore upon his mother’s life
He’d seen the shoulders of the founder’s statue
(Heroic bronze figure outside of Waddington Hall
Smiling benevolently,palms upturned, hands outstretched
Offering a bounty of knowledge to all comers)
Actually began to droop a little bit after it had been passed
By a screaming, bloodied, raging Coal Miner,
Though that tale was the handiwork of Tommy Mulligan,
Who was sodden and given to pure foolishness
Remarkable even by our standards,
And I later heard the Coal Miner
Was living in a barely habitable cabin
Up on the shore of Saranac Lake
Where he had become a stonemason
Specializing in the restoration of headstones
Buffeted by epochs of mountain sleet
And Midwest-borne acid rains.
Aihara May 2018
The imminent river,
inevitable ride;
unwilling passenger,
whether the strap snapped, disconnected;
Or stuck till final destination, rock bottom.

Was all this necessary
Im great, Im happy
Stop misdiagnosed me
Im no other than me

neuroses and religion
who i am to wish for oblivion
one opinion define none
On seeking whats the norm and what is wrong.

Im trying to live, to fit in
Just normally like everybody
Normal to me but it isnt
what am I, Who I am without

I am, was, I will be okay
Why it felt like a replay
No choice but to compelled
Who said its mine to choose
Cause it wil be forever replayed

For now the strap hold on
on repeat, hitting rock bottom
Its true the only way left is up
no in between, stuck in a time wrap.
I hate it when I couldn't accept myself for who I am. My scars, my illness.
Its not my fault I was born with it.
Chris Allen Feb 2018
We all want to be sane
But what is sane
it seems like a long game
Of torture, you're  put in
this box that is filled with
dought, hate, stress, looking different like sand that shapes to your body that you can't escape


The art of being sane is always to lie
You lie till you start to put on stress
so you start to eat and cry and then you
feel sick and they misdiagnosed you and you
are put into this tank of death that you drown yourself in
then you cut the hate and depression temporarily till you see me and I see you when we see it all is amazing

Live how you want to die how you want but just but
I need your company to hold me tight
so that I squeeze to tight till the love that I feel for you
Is magnified to the highest level  but then I push you away
and everyone else till alone with my suicidal thoughts that i
can't  escape then I slip into the darkness of my thoughts of you
but then you push me away too that is why we never speak to each other anymore

Then we meet again down the line of remembrance
but you look so different that I bearly remember the
sweet girl, I met in junior high that is the love that I lost
when I lost you but I do remember those little dimples in your
soft cheeks I miss that love I had with my first love of death
That is who you are to me now not my love nor my hate




                                                            ­       -Bye my lovely death
audacious Mar 2019
For hours on end I lightly tread,
While trying to judge, trying to mend
The on going feud between my heart and head.

"He's good, he's pure, he's kinder than most,"

"But the missing spark & butterflies,
The connection is misdiagnosed"

"You need safe, security, no sense of damage,"

"But you crave passion, intensity,
An enticing challenge."

How does one know the answer lying in wait?
Do we draw a conclusion, a chart,
Ignore them both and just call Fate?
maddie wojan Jul 2019
my illusions are misdiagnosed as reality. tell me im good but whats underneath? lessons that never fully sank in, trauma i didnt attempt to speak about, repressed memories found in body bags. flowers bloom on the surface of my skin and they are filled with rot. absorbing my blood, relying on photosynthesis when i hide from the sun. fear is home, anger is comforting. i enjoy the miserable things in life. i built myself a box with indestructible walls decorated in some kind of sad homage to the girl i killed inside my own head. i used to live life with a sort of ferocious curiosity. now i sit in uncomfortable rooms waiting for air conditioning that wont turn on and highs that never let me come down.
Always 10, Ren
Is back at it again
His heart’s on the mend
From the loss of close friends
At such a young age
He couldn’t dodge or evade
The wars being waged
Right in front of his face
Still, onwards he raged
His perspective was changed
Then stricken with illness
That caused indescribable pain
And for nearly a decade
It ate away at his brain
Misdiagnosed and untreated
He felt psychotic; insane
Until he met the right doctor
Using money, he himself raised
And then began healing
To douse, quench the flame
Which in turn, set the stage
For his songs and displays
Expressing emotions, in many various ways
Not for stardom, or praise
Or what the audience craves
It’s just what’s required to ease, tame the pain in his brain
Sometimes, words are no solace
Words can’t describe, or explain
But it can be heard in his music
That’s been written, arranged
And that can heal, as can the medicine, being shot in his veins
Just as well, for his audience
Who remain amazed, entertained
Grey May 2021
I’m self aware & mentally ill
I am overwhelmed by the emotions I’ve suppressed for so long
Being in my relationship with this amazing woman who only asks for love and to not be taken for granted has opened my eyes to everything I’ve blocked and tucked away
My counselor says that I was misdiagnosed, I do have ADHD and also Autism.
I’ve masked my innocence and my loving nature with the benefits of my first diagnosis.
I’ve learned to become a narcissist,
I’ve learned to become what I’ve always tried to protect myself from
And my relationship is suffering as the result of my defensive mode
I am now overwhelmed with the emotions that I’ve constantly called my weakness when they are my strengths as I learn to control them
I hope everyday she sees how much I’ve put into this daily fight
The hardest part of my everyday routine is waking up and feeling everything at once
The heartbreaking part is when my response to protect myself from being hurt is reacting in anger and seeing her hurting
I yelled rather than taking time to calm myself
I went silent before I communicated that I can’t process the battering ram of emotions that crush my chest
My counselor told me that I can do this,
My girlfriend says she loves me and I see that she is patient and also that she could leave because her happiness is what’s important
I can do this.
I am not a bad person.
I am not a narcissist
I am not a bad person.
I am good enough
I can win this fight
I can learn to love me again
I can be free to be happy again
I am going to be okay
I will win this battle against my mental illness
I will learn hope to cope and become a better person
I can and I will

— The End —