Originally published on Unwritten by Kelly August.
What's wrong with me? I've been haunted by this question for years. There always appeared to be a whole other world existing inside my mind, while I tried my best to live as normal of a life I could. There would be, and still are, days where I feel like two completely different people. I could wake up ready to attack the day, but in any given moment, my mind could do a complete 180. Just a few months ago, my psychiatrist dropped the word that will inevitably change my life forever,
As scary as it was, it did make some sense. I didn't exactly know how to express or react to this news, so I channeled my thoughts and emotions into the following poem. This is my story:
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.
I begin each morning as an indefinite clause- as a
stretching breath without an exhalation. Nothing but the weight
of butterfly wings rests upon my shoulders.
I'm as young as the sunrise and as old as the stars.
As I arch over, my mind switches;
it glitches until my metamorphosis ends.
It was the age of wisdom; it was the age of foolishness.
Insomnia tucks me into bed under a blanket of depression
tonight. Its encumbrance forces my chest to crack under
I see myself- I see my body dancing under
strings; my mind the plagued puppeteer, and
It was the epoch of belief; it was the epoch of incredulity.
No mom, I don't know why I keep eating- maybe
To swarm my vacancy with something substantial.
Because I could use a swarm of fucking bees to sting my pulse
Alive again. I'm sorry sisters that I can't play with you two
right now. I'm too busy keeping those thoughts at bay.
Those thoughts I try to keep under my bed with the monsters.
It was the season of Light; it was the season of Darkness.
I'm tired, doctor. I'm so tired of wishing my days could
End shorter and shorter each day, so that the threat of tomorrow
They said I was depressed.
And then they whispered words about two halves.
I had everything before me; I had nothing before me.
I'll always have them, you, me shouting nonsense
Into the heavy silence that chokes me into a cocoon.
Like Benjy, I only hear sound with so much fury.
My two halves, those damned two halves-
I'll forever be a perpetual diagnosis.
Into the bipolar universe I descent- to a far, far worse
place I go than I have ever known.
There are too many people who suffer from a mental health illness. Unfortunately, our society hasn't realized the severity or importance behind psychological well-being, yet. Even with a diagnosis and medication, I still feel like a freak. Why? No one can understand what another person goes through. While my expression of my situation may not match or even come close to yours, I only wish to spark hope and conversation pertaining to mental health. This topic belongs in the spotlight; it's been shoved into the corner for too long.
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