Unbalanced Minds

Visitors

"They witnessed her destruction, then were left to wonder why, she saw nothing but darkness, though the stars shone in her eyes, but maybe they'd forgotten, when they failed to see the cracks, that a stars light shines the brightest, when it' s starting to collapse"

-e.h //

I sit across from her. She says nothing, the cheap plush bear collapses and contorts as she fidgets with it nervously in her hands. Her eyes are red and tired, I can only guess she hasn't been sleeping at night...myself the reason why. Guilt sneaks up through me, my cheeks warm. I should say I'm sorry. Yet I do not, and so we sit, glancing at each other than away again. It's like a game:  whoever can go the longest without speaking, or look away the longest.

"Wilona I brought you a bear,"

She says hesitantly, holding the sad little thing in front of her for proper display.

Looks like I've won the game, the bear my prize.

"Thanks you," I say. Although I make no move to retrieve it from her.

"I know it's silly, that you're to old for dolls - but I figured it would help cheer your room a bit."

She says looking around my small quarters. Other patients decorate their rooms with brightly colored blankets, drawings, and various plush items. I however, choose not to. I don't want to get comfortable here. I don't want to get 'used' to the atmosphere...That's partially why I started actually taking my meds again, yesterday is the first time since my arrival I hadn't concealed the little capsules in my mouth; disposing of them later. I just figured: I want to get better, I want to get out. So naturally, the most logical conclusion is to resume medication. It crushed my pride to do so, yet I can already tell I'm thinking more clearly. I force myself to smile,

"Yes, it might."

There's a pause. The game resumes. She's the one to break the silence again,

"Wilona? I'm sorry, I didn't see the signs. I didn't realize...I'm so sorry."

Tears follow the fresh tracts down her face. She's a mess - and I'm so mad at her I'm rendered speechless. Of course she didn't see the signs. She's always so hellbent on not seeing them. The only times she accepts there are 'signs' that her 'darling' girl is having a manic episode are if I'm bleeding to death half overdosed on the floor. Which, by the way can be a result of a manic episode, a suicide attempt in and of itself is not exclusive to bipolar. Yet that's how she is, 'signs' have to hit her smack in the face and knock off her feet for her to acknowledge...and maybe help. yet, I do not say any of this. Soon she leaves. I'm glad.

I'm eating lunch when I get another visitor. I think it's her again but to my surprise it's Jewel. She's brought me leggings (for the gym she says) and Wendy's. I invite her and her mother into my cramped room, they don't seem to mind the small space. Jewel and her mother both give me hugs and we talk about everything other than the hospital. Sometimes, that's how it should be. I enjoy their visit immensely. I'm sad when they have to go, thanking them redundantly for the food and leggings. Jewel gives me a parting hug and says she will be back soon. Her mother says she hopes I'm out before than and hugs me once more. It's funny how nothing phases her. She lights up every room she enters with her good humor. I'm grateful for her.

From the exterior,  looking at my life, most would say I have friends in abundance. I'm thought to be an outgoing fun-loving social butterfly. But when I first got hospitalized, I was ostracized for it. Losing friends because they did not understand. They were uncomfortable. Eventually I made new friends and after a few more hospitalizations, the same trend would recur. From this I came to the profound conclusion, 'friends' are the ultimate  visitors. Most are just passing through, and when things get rocky, they scurry along to a more desirable destination. Few however, are permanent. Those who'll stand faithfully by your side when life gets cloudy, when the skies open up to pour mercilessly upon you.

Jewel has her flaws, but she cam to see me, the only 'friend' of mine who did. For that I am thankful. You see, It isn't about the quantity of friends you have because they will fail you - it's human nature.  On other other hand, you can never go wrong searching for quality  of  friend's. Even if that be only one. I've learned to let visitors come and go; It's never rewarding to fight and beg for ones affections - but as one might expect, I get lonely. I betray myself when a new 'visitor' appears, raising my hopes high that they might stay. Only to have them leave again, because a visitor's just that: here for an instant and than gone again. 

Everybody wants to be loved and belong...accepted and respected. My hope's that one day, someone might be willing to care about me as much as I am willing to care about them.

Is that a fools dream?