I drank, I dance, I smoke, I game, I work, I scream, I moan, I play.
This is not my time period. I do not belong here. I belong decades back…
was good, until I started thinking. Honestly, just thinking. Taking a look at where I’m at. Taking a step back. It hit me like a ton of bricks. How I’m 24 years old, living with my parents, with nothing to show for anything I’ve worked so hard thus far for. Today I broke. I let my emotions get the best of me, I let anxiety engulf my very soul and let water pour from my eyes as I sunk to the bathroom floor. Locked myself in there, away from the world it felt, and I locked away my heart up and flushed the key down the toilet for a while. This isn’t the first time I have shattered, but I’m starting to get better at putting the pieces back together with a stronger foundation so next time it won’t be so easy for me to come to this point again. I do not like the place I go mentally when I feel helpless against my emotions. I do not like feeling helpless against my emotions, period. And I’m not. I’m not helpless. After a moment of inexplicable melancholy I find strength somewhere. Somewhere deep inside, where I don’t even know how or why or where I muster it up. I pull from that and get back up, look in the mirror and tell myself to pull it together.
And I do.
And I keep this to myself. I am keeping all this to myself, because it holds heavy on other’s hearts. Everyone has their own battles, and I damn well should be able to handle mine on my own.
I’m going to a bipolar support group tomorrow. We’ll see how that goes.
I invest my happiness too often in others and substances, Now is a time for me to pull back and really care for myself.