bipolar disorder

all night pt 2…my heart I would refuse

so many times i like to stay up alone and play on my phone almost never interacting cause i surely end attacking some poor lonely dude just trying to talk with no tact at all and i take it the wrong way and then i react with the burning hot fury of a thousand dying suns and nobody cares cause they know i’m not one they care to fuck with but then I pull a will smith and I become legend while I lean off of the edge and I realize that my name is not known all that well and that makes me jump back from the pit of hell the fire is hot but not yet i am not ready to go cause there’s yet so many here to show what i got…

what i got aint alot it’s really quite small and now you’ll hear my prefrontal cortex speak it’s not me not at all. ive tried my whole life to just shut that bitch down but that bitch got my throat and now im the clown…and i’m in a small car that I don’t want to drive with about six or 7 big tall lady guys all dressed in suits made of primary colors and yeah how they laugh but they hate one another and while they are laughing get stabbed in the back by their very best friend such a vicious attack but it’s all okay in their urban decay and their mac and their fucking too faced smashbox brigade.

ok…I’m now back to me and I can see that this e tv is not for me. Id rather the forensic files put in piles for me to swallow won’t be so hollow as the shit that’s on and everyone follows.

I’ve never been a leader or a follower, i’ve always been a swallower…to be honest.

just taking it in, with much chagrin and always much to my displeasure.

But see now I’m almost to the end of my life, I’ll never again be anyone’s wife, or anyone’s friend so a bitch cannot grin while I’m pulling that knife…and I’m honestly thankful to not do that again…I’ve had enough…this life has been rough and quite thankfully few were the cuffs that bound my arms and my legs but they still clamped down on my head and honestly if i could go back and choose which one I’d lose…

I’d guess it’d be my freedom cause to do it again, I won’t pretend that my heart I would refuse.

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Barefoot

Dropping the weights, the load’s getting lighter..I’m getting monkeys from off of my back….
it’s been quite a struggle, as I’ve had to muddle, barefoot on hot coals with no lack.

Or something

I usually don’t cry
But today that’s all I’ve done
I’m tired of living this way
Hasn’t the damage already been done?
Haven’t you already won?
When can I see the sun?
….and be happy about it?
All frolicking, and shit?

I hate having to explain the shit I never explain.

I hate the feeling of always being caught in your disdain.

I hate always feeling pain and having to pretend it’s a migraine. ..

Or something. …

Getting to a point

I don’t like waking up to a mess…a mess whose responsibility to clean is mine.  I hate looking at this shit.

I got up today at 2:00 pm, and washed my dog.  He’s getting a cataract and it’s making me not want to get near him because the thought of him going blind or dying IS SOMETHING I CAN’T FUCKNG DEAL WITH. …but that cloudiness in his eye is there, and I don’t think it’s leaving.

I am usually reticent in naming my illnesses in my blog posts. …but I’m getting to a point where it is do or die….and I’m also at the point where I don’t care which one it is.
image

Apollo

The alcohol is tearing my stomach up but that doesn’t matter while I fill up my cup

childhood demons coming  hard and fast don’t know how much longer I can last

everywhere I go the trouble seems to follow I put on my nikes and run like Apollo

I wanna get away I don’t want to wallow and the  pill life gives I don’t wanna swallow

so here I am and I’m stuck like stupid because I let an arrow from  cupid

hit my heart in the weakest spot, and now that bitch got me in a headlock

I’m at jesus door going  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK,  answer the door please don’t keep it locked.

I’m standing out here in the pouring ass rain and I hate that I am here once again

it seems like all I feel is nothing but shame, and that is a feeling so loaded with pain

I look all around for someone to blame

I look all around for someone to blame

but they’re gone, not coming back, and now I  feel an anxiety attack

coming to hit me always from the back rubbing my nose in all that I lack

 

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

 

I have to believe it only seems like i’m failing

when the truth is that I am probably sailing

across every ocean always prevailing

even when life seems so unavailing

I am a tough ass bitch this I do know

lemons in my garden are the only thing that grow

eyes all burning but I go with the flow

except I do it backwards, it’s part of my show

One day I will finish this lifetime race

running to the goal of unfettered grace

Jesus in my pocket HE IS MY ACE

it’s hard to believe he hasn’t turned his face

I feel so worthless most of the time

blaming myself for my father’s crimes

but then the wind blows and I can hear the chimes

and the slow still voice points out the landmines

beloved run here, don’t run there

the mothafucking landmines are everywhere

watch where you step, walk with care

and when you feel lonely find the sun and just stare

fuck whose watching…why the fuck care?

if you feel shame just let down your hair

and know they’re all numbered, my dear Sarah

I love all my children but you are fairer

keep that thought close in your desolate land

while you know you can always take my hand

I’ll walk you through the valleys of sand

and Ill get you to the promised land

keep your chin up while you get a tan

the place I am taking you is fucking grand

I tell no lies, I AM the Son of man

I tell no lies, I Am the Son of man

 

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

 

 

 

 

 

 

That One Semester

I think out of all the repurcussions stemming from my childhood, the one that pisses me off the most is that I buried all of my talents.

I am a very creative person, I always have been.  I am both musically and artistically inclined.  I knew I was good at music because my parents forced me to be in the band in Jr. high, and I was excellent at it.  But because they forced me to do it, I became angry with it and I began to hate it, vehemently.

By the time I reached 8th grade, I had multiple superior awards from Solo and Ensemble festivals.  I could play the clarinet like nobody’s business, and I never even practiced, at home.

The summer before 8th grade, I tried out for drum major and I won.  I did practice my ass off to win that prize, but once football season hit and I was out on the field, or leading the band in the bleachers, I quit.

I only was drum major for one game.  It was just way too much spotlight on me leading the band nerds, when all I really wanted was to be free of that dorky shit and hang out with the cool kids.

I could kick my ass for that now….and I guess I do…and I guess I have, for a long time.

My step-mom finally relented on band when I got to high school, and I was set free.  The only reason they let me out of band was because they intended for me to go to LSU and there were several course requirements that had to be met and being in band would take away two credits a year that I could be putting toward Physics and Biology 2.

So…fast forward to High School Graduation…

I graduated with honors and I was, honestly, mind-blown about that.  I ended my high-school career with a 3.67 GPA, which was completely due to my diligent studying 9th and 10th grades.  By the time I got to the middle of my junior year, I was sneaking out, drinking, smoking weed and not giving a fuck about school.  I have no idea how I passed Algebra 2 or Physics my senior year.

But I did.

I was excited to go to college, but I wanted to get as far away from my parent’s house as possible.  I got accepted to every state school to which I applied and when I sat down with my dad to discuss where I would be attending he said to me, “Son, you have two choices.  You can either go to LSU or you can go to LSU.”

My blood boiled.

He said not only could I only go to LSU, but that I could not live in a dorm room, or anything cool like that, I would be living at Salem’s Lot and commuting.

I can’t lie, though, once I settled in my first semester at LSU, I loved it.  The school is huge, I didn’t know ANYONE, there were very friendly squirrels in the Quad, and I really, really enjoyed that one semester.

 

An Excercise In Realness

When I woke up, this morning, I can’t lie, I was scared to look at my WordPress account.  It literally took me 2 hours to look.  There were no likes, except from a good friend of mine.

People are so disappointing to me.

I am disappointing to me.

If there is nothing else I get from this blog, it is the opportunity to EXCERCISE REALNESS.

I guess we all just want the “realness” that Reality TV provides….

Seriously??

I was upset yesterday, over a plethora of things of which I wouldn’t write.  I only wanted to write about my anger.

I hate being the bitch who whines about how horrible her life is and how all she wants to do is die.  I refuse to be the bitch who has to preface my post with  ASTERISK  CAUSE  I AM TALKING ABOUT ALL SHIT SUICIDAL.

I ain’t her….but those who are her, get TONS OF LIKES AND ALL THAT “FEELING SORRY FOR YOU CRAP”….I know, because I am the first to like all of those kinds of posts, BECAUSE I RELATE TO THEM.

am i truly that hard to relate?

When I go writing about my real feelings, I  will,  inevitably, always make that shit rhyme, and then instead of someone hearing my real shit that’s going on, they get a nice little poem, because I am still incapable of writing about the REAL SHIT that distresses me.

But last night I got balls to the wall DRUNK.

And honestly…I really do believe I said a bunch of the same shit other people want to say, but won’t because even if they’re drunk….they can’t.

People are the biggest stumbling  block in my life….if only they weren’t.

I would be fucking President….or at least mayor.

Low

Oh my God, I hate being low, when I was younger I stayed doing blow, so I didn’t even know that reason I stayed on “GO” was a subconscious attempt at not being low.

I always stayed high with wings that would fly down though the pits of hell then back up to the sky and I remember asking, “why?” because being high all the time still made me cry (but only on the inside)

Now years have passed and though sometimes I ask I really do pass on the hard drugs.

I just drink the liquor, and my body is getting sicker but thing is…this week, I didn’t even drink and I’m still fucking low and I still want to go and I don’t want to leave my bed so yes, I do know, that I am sick in the head.

Will this ever end?  When did it begin?  When I lost my mom the first time?  Or when it happened again?

 

Red Rover

I posted this one a year ago…I suppose I’ve made a modicum of progress since then…

Athena's Wicked Owl

Just my normal fucking chaos, that’s all it really is…Like a Nathan’s fucking hot dog with some mustard and some jizz.  I got a mean ass voice all in my fucking head…telling me go fuck myself, you really should be dead….I’m in the ring and fighting that bitch sounding so much like myself and I’m sick of hearing her voice that bitch is fucking with my health…If only she could do something productive with herself….i HATE THAT BITCH; I FUCKING HATE HER TAKE HER OUT OF ME…I swear to Christ she needs to go cause I can hardly fucking breathe.  I’m almost fucking 40 and there’s been no damn reprieve; this demon spawn has stole my soul just like a fucking thief.

I know God fucking hears me and he’s been listening my whole life…watching and he’s laughing as I struggle being (wife)…a mother, a sister and a fucking goddamn…

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Bullet Train Derailment

My mood plummeted last night.  It wasn’t the best yesterday, but as soon as night fell, my mood became extremely murky and dark and thick and very uncomfortable and it was really hard moving through it.

I feel better today and now I am trying to pinpoint the cause of the crash.  I tried to pinpoint last night but the muck was much too deep.  It was all I could do just trying to stay in my skin.

Most of it was anxiety, I guess.

I am, currently, and have been living between two houses for the last several months.

I have been in a relationship for approximately the last three and a half years.

I have been possessed in my current body for two score and 21 days, and in that time I have only had three long-term relationships with men.  The first one lasted about four years, and bore one child.  The second one lasted about six years, and bore 3 children. During that particular relationship, he was not with me, emotionally, for any of it, and was only present, physically, 2 years.

After number 2, even though I had really given up on the idea of loving or being loved by a man, I accidentally fell in love.

This time was different.  The love was reciprocal.  I knew it, I could feel it, and it was was like nothing I had ever experienced before, in my life.  I loved someone who actually loved me back…wow.  I could not say ‘no’ to it, no matter how hard I tried, and even a year into the relationship, I was still trying, and I am still trying.

Now, the ability to say ‘no’ and “turning it off” have become easier because the cracks in his honesty, that I knew were somewhere in there, albeit hidden well, have finally begun to show.

I am an honest person.  It came naturally, at first, and I lost it during adolescence and my teen years until I was about 24 years old.  I was heavy on drugs, homeless, squatting from one house, to the next with very few possessions, and those factors are what possessed my mind to stop lying.  I realized that I had so little, that the little I had, I wanted to keep, and I knew in my soul, that the only way to keep those things was to stop taking things from others.

Yeah, I used to steal and lie, and I was actually really fucking good at it.

Back to topic….you gotta watch me…I’ll go off a track faster than the Bullet Train, if it were bombed.

….one day I’m gonna ride the Bullet Train in Japan….

So, anyway, I stopped lying more than 15 years ago.

When a person doesn’t lie, over time, I believe they develop the ability to become a human lie detector…or maybe I always have been…I don’t know.  What I do know is that I know when someone is lying to me.

And that’s all I want to say about this right now because sharing feelings is hard for me, but I’m working on it.

I also know that anyone who is interested in reading this blog, probably has a short attention span.