A collection about living with bipolar disorder and other vents.
Manic depression
Suddenly everything makes sense, the colors around me are more vibrant than they have ever been.
Everything is my favorite thing, I pour my passion into an endless amount of areas. I stayed up all night writing poetry and drawing, I have found the answer in this feeling, this is what I've been hoping for.
I talk without inhibition, I spill my thoughts everywhere, this is what I've been wanting my whole life.
As quickly as the high comes it leaves, I find myself in a hole again.
I stare up at the sky and I wonder how I always end up back here, again and again, I always return to this hollow feeling.
I find myself empty in a way nothing can fill, nothing is worth doing, nothing worth talking about.
It's exhausting, knowing no middle, living with two sets of eyes.
Gray skies
I lay on my back in the grass, I stare at the gray sky above me.
No matter where I go, no matter who I become, no matter how much effort I put forth, I always end up back here.
I have a sense of hollowness in my chest, something isn't there that should be.
I always find myself back in the hole.
Nothing fills me, I remain empty and numb despite my best efforts. The things I used to love leave me wondering why I can't be the way I used to be.
Stories are retold in my mind endlessly, stories about my little dark age, stories about the nights that broke me, stories about how this feeling always returns.
I know what will make me better, I know what will make me worse, but every happy song feels like a falsehood, and every activity feels like waiting until it's over.
YOU ARE READING
Sincerely October
PoetryThis poetry book was written having multiple narratives, lots of happiness and healing, lots of aching and low points. I choose the title "sincerely October" to capture being authentic.
