i have to be up and about in few too many hours. go to bed? pssshhh.
[quick! pull away from the deep spiraling black. think up up up positive up]
things that save me:
-the little red head at work with the bad free style spirit and the ability to make on hell of a cup cake. giddy up.
-coffee with a double shot and caramel and 3 raw sugars.
-my girls, piglet and the jet. my little warriors. my protectors. my spazztastic entertainers.
-the above but with cocoa pebbles.
-my duplex with all the lights on and the tv blaring elephant shell.
-drawing little things at work and leaving them in weird places.
-beans in the hoppa.
-black hair dye. sometimes.
-music music music [currently tokyo police club, goldfrapp, the young dubliners, amanda fucking palmer, pj harvey, and elliot smith]
-believing in people that are miles away and still moving. don't look back honey.
-deep thought in the afternoon hours. when i finally wake up.
im in combat currently. fighting against the down part of the manic versus the depression. depression is up by alot right now. foul. ugly. sticky. it hurts. bad. and somehow i know i have to turn things around in my head. arms up. guns drawn. fingers itchy im waiting for a moment to move. holding my breath im underwater. fleeing from familiar faces and an even more familiar pain. i hate this. i want to turn my phone off. i want to call in to work and never go back. i want to get in my car and drive just drive to the ocean and run into it. laughing in a way that isnt funny at all. hm. images pour ever and spill into every crevasse of the home that is my brain. the attic has a leak. i have no one to call and im no handy [wo]man. sigh. im up all night. but instead of pacing and chattering im staring and forgetting how to work my xBox. giving up im laying on the couch and the cats crawl on me. maybe they know whats going on. theyre trying to revive me. reminding me to feed them. telling me its going to be ok. but im useless and i reach to touch them but theyve been gone for hours. at work i cant simply cant hold my smile anymore. my regulars tilt their heads and i can only shrug and say its nothing. doesnt matter. and i disappear into the back room to sit and contemplate the dishes. im exhausted i just want to sleep. the bed is huge. the blankets tangle with my hair and im sore everywhere. this is like a bad wellbutrin commercial. im that girl sighing and crying in them. i see myself on there in these commercials for the medication i cant afford. do it yourself doesnt work well with bipolar. ouch ouchie ouch. the things in the list above help. but somehow im always starving for oxygen and scratching my skin. the week just started. awesome.
lets do it.