An Indifferent State of Mind
I am bipolar. Simple statement, not so simple to live with, but that is not the topic of my post. I merely wish for you to understand part of what makes me, me.
I have been reviewing some writings from several years ago, when my mental illness was ablaze and alive. I'm sure it's not gone, but for now it's quiet, doesn't bother me much. Because of that stillness, I am able to read my writings through different eyes. Oh, I remember the emotions and the circumstances, but the pain, although still present, is tempered.
In the review of these turbulent writings I am able to work them into a more literal style, one not quite so rambling and obscure. What shocks me is the emotion that radiates from these written
words. I remember, but where has it gone? Don't confuse my curiosity for wishfullness, I do not want that rage, confusion, or pain to engulf me, yet I do not wish to stay in this state of calculated detachment. It's as miserable, if not more so, than the alternative. At least when I rage I feel alive. Now I merely take up space.
Ah, you say. She's depressed. Perhaps, but obviously not much so or I would be despondent. As it is I am not even that. Numbness is the best way to describe it. Perhaps this is why so many mentally ill individuals refuse medication. They do not wish to be numb. I do not have the luxury of experimenting with my medicines. I am sane enough to know the damage that can be done if I do not take them, although I must confess to "forgetting" them occasionally. My responsible side will not allow me to walk to close to the edge, although it is a sirens call.
I am not suicidal. I have examined it like a jeweler exams a diamond, like a sommelier savors wine. I have looked into the depths of its substance and find it lacking. I do not fear death, I just want more of life and how can that be done in this state of numbness? Do I need to draw blood to feel? Do I need to imbibe to find something hidden within me? I can't just wait for things to change, I must change things, but again I ask, how can that be done while numb? I must confess to being at a loss over it all. I am well aware that my thoughts and feelings are not exclusive to me. I regret my inability to answer my own questions. It seems I am caught on a tide of indifference. But wait, isn't indifference an emotion, or is it a state of mind? Their is something for this fuddled mind to chew on. Keep it busy lest it rise up and rebel.
I have attached a few of the aforementioned pieces for your perusal. Comments would be more than welcome. I do hope you find something within them that makes you feel. It's hell to be numb. Till next time.......
An Illicit Affair
Passion springs from my hearts’
desire,
wrested into subjectivity only to
be fueled
again by whispered words of
seduction.
the
vision that entwines us. Ponder the taste.
Savor
the pain; exquisite, extinguishing pain.
I must not, I cannot. My spirit
screams for
you, my spirit screams at you.
Come, whisper
lies into my mind to justify this
act. Go!
Before I fall and believe you.
Your
skin so cool, so soft, so white.
Your lips,
cherry red, that cannot yet
be kissed. Let us sway to the mournful notes
you sing and dance away to never or forever.
Do not touch me, nor whisper your
deceit.
Today I am of strength enough to
turn you away.
You will come again, I know, but
not to my call.
You must wait until your time, no
matter how long.
words
that float in your head.
Release, peace, quiet, the dark.
You
will think them your own until the
final hour. Then you shall see my
face, angel or
devil.
Your final dance
with me, glorious,
elating, transcending, will take you
from
this place.
True words indeed, for in the
end, death takes
what it will. Nevertheless, it
will not be something I give,
no matter how sweet the kiss.
Questions
Arguments of old, debate of the ages,
Yet still, no true answers.
Unreachable, forever eluding the grasp and comprehension,
While fueling wonder and imagination.
Yet still, no true answers.
Where is the wisdom in attempting it?
Where is the good in helping when your help is not wanted?
Where is the good in the pain of that, and why does it
matter?
Yet still, no true answers.
Where went the passion of standards and ideals?
Where went honor, integrity, substance, and soul?
Where did they go when they crawled off to die?
Perhaps to lick their wounds, heal, and then return once
more?
Yet still, no true answers.
Be careful of seeking answers for lies abound, and truth is
evasive.
What would you do after your attempted quest?
What if truth be found and you are hated for it?
Where is the good in all that?
Yet still, no true answers.
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