Why don’t you leave me be? What wrong did I ever do you? Why do you pierce my heart? Why do you make it hurt? Why do you take away my peace of mind? My smile? My laughing eyes? Why do you fill my eyes with tears? Why do you make me feel helpless instead of fierce? Where has the “me” gone again, dissolved in a puddle on the floor. It hurts, it hurts, it really hurts. I know why people become addicts, anything to make this go away. Even if it’ll blow up your heart and fry your mind and kill you. Anything, yes anything, to make this pain go away.
I am forbidden by my doctor to take Zoloft because of blah blah blah, however, even if the blah blah blah is true, it won’t matter if I don’t exist, because my mood got so low that I couldn’t take it anymore. Never fear, it never will get that low. There’s always the hospital. Oh joy! Not.
I know it’s only an illness, there is NO reason why I should feel like this except the chemical imbalance in my brain. There is no event/situation in my life that is making me feel like this. I know this very well, I know it logically. But the FEELINGS nonetheless feel awful and painful. I feel desperately sad, sort of hopeless, and very small. Usually I feel big and in control and capable. But this illness takes all that away from me, temporarily. A temporary tempest. Oh too many emotions, too many feelings, too much pain. Where is the lobotomist when you need one?
Go away. Let me be. I’m happy and peaceful and fine when you’re not around. Please bipolar disorder, let me be in peace. Let me live my life, I don’t bother you, please let me go. Go back to the dark forest of gnarled trees and ugly witches and ogres where you normally dwell. I did not summon you, go away. Leave me in my sunny, bright, verdant, flower filled bower where I live. You have no place here. You have no right to pollute my little home that I’ve made for myself. Go back to the hell where you belong and never haunt me anymore.