I'm not suicidal, just fantasizing. I don't think I'm cut out for life. I don't think I have what it takes to survive. I'm lacking something necessary. I can't handle the pressure of breathing, much less everything else I have to do.
I'm so ashamed of all of me.
My mom hates me... it's my fault, I think. I'm being a brat. But I can't take this right now. I can't take this anymore.
I don't want to be me. I DON'T WANT TO BE BIPOLAR!! It is always one step forward, two steps back. I think I'm progressing just because I'm hypomanic. Then I don't take my meds for a day and I remember. There's never any progress for me.
I want to find the zipper on everything that's me and unzip it and take it off. I'm not sure what I'd be then, but it'd have to be better than this flawed trash I am now.
I have an A- in English on my progress report. I've never had an A- before. I know that's a little thing, a stupid thing. But it feels like the hugest failure in the world.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
why should progress necessarily entail moving forward?
You are loved. Immensely, incredibly, eternally- not the perfect version of you, but you as you are. A-, bipolar, and all.
Post a Comment