Exo Imagines

140. Comtemplation

This is different to the usual kind of imagines I do, but as I am one of those plagued with bipolar disorder I thought it would get a string image across about the struggles thousands of people, like me, face in the day to day life.

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You slowly rubbed the soaked sponge over the surface of the dirty dinner plate, resorting to using a nail to scrape of the little bits of food that had dried to the plate after being left over night besides the kitchen sink, an inner fury bubbling up in your gut when your stepdad came into the kitchen and stacked up more pots on the kitchen counter, mumbling a grouchy, "and these," before skulking out the door and back to sit back down in the sofa.

Your fist clenched slightly as your reached for another stack of plates, letting them drop into the soapy water, quietly cussing when suds splashed up and soaked into you clean pyjama top.

To anybody else you were just a grumpy 20 year old with a hatred for chores. But the thing was you didn't mind chores, you actually kind of liked them, they calmed you down. There was something about dusting and brushing up that was therapeutic and helped calm down your emotions.

You held a secret. Bipolar. Your thoughts were either on the happy, manic side of the scale, or on the dark, depressive side. You had more downs that ups, and when the depression hit that's when things got ugly.

You would cry yourself to sleep, your mind buzzing with thoughts, self abusive thoughts. Being depressed was like having a small voice in the back of your head, constantly telling you that you will never be good enough, that you will never be truly loved by somebody and you would die alone, mentally screwed over with no family to call your own.

When your depressed, you want to be left alone. It's not that you want to be by yourself, you want everyone to disappear. You don't want to go anywhere, see anyone, or do anything. It's like no matter what you do, people are telling you you're doing something wrong, so the easiest way to feel better is to just hide away.

No matter what it is-work, hanging out with friends, exercise, etc.-You don't enjoy things because the smallest details annoy you. If friends invite you out, you imagine waiting for the bus, being cramped against angry, stinky people, waiting in lines, and all the other negative things. You think of every possible downside of something, which leaves you dreading the idea of doing anything that includes leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom.

Worst of all are the things that happen in the comfort of your own home. Preparing yourself some lunch, maybe some deep fried chips with crispy fish. You pick up the sharp knife, light glistening off the pointed blade, your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly press your finger against the blade and slide it up towards the point, feeling the slight sting as the metal dug into your frail skin, but feeling somewhat at ease and relaxed now.

"I wonder if anybody would miss me," you mumbled to yourself as you twisted the blade around in your hand, watching the light shimmer and sparkled off the freshly polished stainless steel. "I wonder if he'd miss me."

He would, of course he would. Your boyfriend was one of the only ones that knew about your mental unstableness, and although it may not have felt like it, he was always there, although not in person, he was there. He cried when you cried, reading into your condition deeply, eyes welling up as he skimmed over the darker parts of the article. Him begging you to get help only made you cry more, your head burying into your pillow, scrunching it up and holding it close, only wishing everybody would just leave you alone to melt away in your own puddle of sorrow, deep down hoping somebody would just grab you, hold your tight, let you cry into their chest and tell you everything will be okay.