The world rages all around me. But it is still and I am not.

I see red and black, and everything hurts. Words, shrugs, looks.

They’ve become electric stabs to my heart.

People set the fire, stoke it to a frenzy. But I am made of gasoline and matches, just waiting for a spark.

I tear through everything. Possessions, friends, family. Nothing is immune to my claws.

They fall from me, in ones and twos and threes. Until only I am left.

But I was alone at the start.

That is worse.

The flames lick my skin in silence, pounding cruelty and obscenities. Raping my own mind. The red fades and there is only black.

The quiet place roars. Shuddering violence as nails bite my palms.

It’s a pit of darkness. The dirt comes raining down to crush me.

It catches in my lungs, my nose, my hair. My heart becomes a stone.

Slumping back, I stare up as the sky disappears. The only world I see comes as pebbles and filth as I’m buried alive.

The world is better. They will have peace. I won’t struggle anymore.

Time is a burden in that place. It’s sharp teeth against my back, begging me to live again.

And oh, how I live.

I crawl through the muck. I grasp the roots and haul myself up. I stand firm on the ground but it is not enough.

My fingers catch as I climb the tallest tree. My feet pounce to the next branch. But at the top, when there is nothing left step upon, my essence drifts without me.

It soars. A magnet being pulled to the moon. I hurtle past everything else.

Star dust collects in my eyes, and everything is bright. I see with clarity. I am high.

In the milky light, I stop, thrumming with energy. My hands ache to create and I set them free. My feet bound off as well. I am torn into a thousand directions. Each as enticing as the next.

The moon doesn’t judge. It whispers what I yearn for most. I don’t have to choose. I can have them all.

And everything is perfect.

Until a person shouts from earth. Straining my neck, I can barely understand them.

In my distraction, a tarnished edge has infected my eyes. There is no more stardust.

I scream and drop to the ground below, hollow eyes seeing nothing.

But they see the monster, and they strike the first match.

 

—-

So today’s post is a short something I wrote earlier this year about what it’s like to suffer from rapid cycling bipolar disorder, constantly shifting between mania and depression. Hope you like it.

Best wishes,

Ellie ❤

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