BIPOLAR I

Excuse me doctor, do you have minute? I seem to have misplaced my
motherfucking mind.

The diagnosis says bipolar but I’m Alzheimering on how to function.
Lacerations on my will to live. This depression got me somewhere
between demented and dementia. Mania like a shot of hormone heroine,
I’ve been up for 5 days. Red acrylics sliding down my cerebrum. 9 inch
nails to my cerebellum. Lobotomize this agony. I would do anything if
you could promise me that this would stop.

Doc, Gimmie the breakdown on this breakdown. You think maybe we could
schedule it for another time?

You see somewhere between Mobay and Brooklyn. I fell off of the train
of functionality, and into the abyss. Tripped on a pebble and fell
into the tracks. Pulled at a thread of doubt and unraveled infinity.
Metaphysical misery, Mood swinging into parallel dimensions. Is there
a prescription for redemption? Because I am so bored of getting
better.

Every time I think I have found the end of this sadness. Gone so deep
there couldn’t. possibly. be. more. Sadness. There is in fact more
sadness. Chilean mines of despair. Developing country deficits of
dopamine. If every action has an equal and opposite reaction, then why
my reactions gotta be so apocalyptic. Your moods rhythming in waves,
mine cycling in tsunamis. This bipolar is giving me whiplash. Tried to
reason with this mole hill but it turned into everest. Rollercoasters
of feelings, I am choking on my own emotional vomit. Let me the fuck
off of this ride.

I have faked it, but not made it. Put my big girl panties on and still
felt naked. Talked about these feelings until they lose meaning. Take
a scalpel to these dark and scaries, I have no more childhood traumas
to suture back into rainbows and sunshine. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s
going to be okay. It has to be okay. I have to believe it is going to
be okay.

This brain is a mess. Frat house grimy, the floor of my mind is
sticky. Dishes piling up in the sink of my synapses. I don’t even know
where to begin cleaning up. Hey If I face these demons can we go back
to the party? Yo this place sucks, I wanna go home.

Light a flame on this burn out. Psychoanalyze this analysis.
diagnostics on this diagnosis. Cross reference this literature. Pin me
on your grid of disorders. Talk therapy, drug therapy, hypno therapy,
family therapy, cognitive bloodclaat behavioral. My therapy has
therapy. 3 hours a day wash it down with 200 mgs. Rest on Holy Sundays
because it’s the day of the lord. Feelings, feelings, feelings. Amen.

Glitter glue this agony. Arts and craft a solution. Staple back these
cracks. This is like watching paint dry. I’m an over stretched canvas.
Wanna smoke a J while we wait for this super glue to set?

It was politely suggested that I not tell anyone about my diagnosis. I
would like to politely suggest that you can fuck off. Mic drop on
your judgement. Put bandaids on this bullet hole and then tell me to
think positive. Don’t hit me with some positivity quotes, hit me up
with a solution. Eat your kind words and serve me a plate of
practicality. This is chemistry, not a yoga class. Meditate on this
middle finger. Yo who do I have to slip a lunch money to get things
back on track?

Rearrange physics before I could get this mind to cooperate.
Overachiever but can’t theorize a solution. This condition is non
negotiable. Got a masters in manipulation but can’t get this serotonin
to compromise. Could close any deal but can’t settle this out of
court. Regonitate world peace before I could broker a deal with these
demons. I can’t think of anything that would make this worth it. Am I
better Am I better Am I better. Our session is up.


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