Manic

The shrink told me the bad things would go away. That it was just hormones mixed with a being dealt a bad hand and that I would be okay so long as I got out in one piece.
I held on to that for a long time, believing that one day I’d grow up and be on my own, away from a toxic environment, away from the pain in my head.
They lied to me. But then again, I lied to them.
I should have known that was too easy.
I don’t know if there’s anything or anyone to blame anymore, for the sickness in my mind.
But I’m established now, stressed maybe, but a bright future ahead, on track with blessing I’m grateful for.
I’ve had the truly happiest and best experiences of my life in just the past few weeks. Everything is working out, everything is looking up.
I freed myself from everything that was hindering me and I do feel lighter, but something dark still creeps up and stains the corners of my thoughts.
I know what you’re thinking, we all have ups and downs, we all get sad sometimes. This is true, I just wish you knew it wasn’t covered under that category, think of a much deeper shade of blue.
I tried numbing it, shutting it all out. Every nerve cauterized in the anatomy of my emotions.
But several months of this and it drove me into a different kind of spiral, desperate to feel something, anything, needing release.
I had my heart shut down for business, off limits and hidden away.
I probably should have kept it that way.
I don’t know why I have to be cursed like this, I don’t know what or why or how to stop it.
With my heart open and in the light I’ve found such pure happiness and content, butterflies and uncontrollable smiles, laughter.
But with feeling, there are highs and then there are the lows.
And with highs so blissful and euphoric comes the heaviest darkness.
This is the first time in my life my heart isn’t broken or healing from loving someone, aside from blood. I don’t relate to the same songs I used to, I don’t obsess over the past.
I’ve gained the ability to let the things go, to walk away and to move on, to try and not fear the things I can’t control.
It sounds like I got stronger, maybe I did.
So why and what am I crying for?
What is this aching, hopeless pain pulsing through my chest, why can’t I control it?
Why can’t I just be happy without my mind punishing me for it, without my demons guiding my hand in self sabotage.
I’m on the rise yet I still want to find a cliff and floor it.
What’s this horrible entity chewing away at me from the inside out?
Maybe all that time spent numb built up and it fried me at once, like a relapsing addict I couldn’t handle the dosage.
I want to give up so bad, run away until I disappear.
Please doc, give me narcotics so I can go to Neptune, far, far away from here.
I wish there was a pill to take it all away, I wish I could just be normal.
One of these days I’ll cut something that can’t be stitched up, I’ll go too far, I’ll crash and burn, I’ll bleed out on the expensive white rug that I splurged unnecessarily on.
It gives me peace thinking about the blood seeping out and staining the white, my life slowly leaking away. Slicing real deep feels like getting high, similar to euphoria.
Your head starts to get a little fuzzy, after the initial cut it’s more of a dull pulsating discomfort, not painful.
Your mind feels light and your body gets tingly, vision starts getting a little splotchy.
Until eventually darkness swallows you, the weight lifted. That is until you come crashing back into your body because I’ve never gotten further than that, if I had I wouldn’t be here still writing the same old story.
The worst part? Surviving. Even the times you didn’t intend to die.
It feels like a solid gold anger on your chest, heavier every time.
I won’t ask for help, I will keep going until I go too far.
And then, well, I’ll finally have my bloody halo.
Undiagnosed and self medicated, I can’t tell you what’s wrong only cry until the painful swelling in chest goes back down.
I want the blade more than ever at a time where I can’t have it, I’m removing the scars that were my only release.
Afraid of being taken away, locked up, diagnosed with something that keeps me under lock and key.
If I’m honest about what’s happening on the inside, I’ll be dissected until they find out that what’s rotten is dangerous in me.
I won’t be able to pretend anymore and if I can’t pretend I’ll be consumed.
I’m tired of the constant whispering on either side of my shoulder, angel and devil I just want silence.
Tired, exhausted, the light just might not win. That’s okay, turn it off for a minute, let the darkness in, give me the blade and watch me fade.
This world is so toxic, roll the end credits I’m done with this script, that’s my queue, I see my exit.