Waking up every day to a false reality can be very damaging, especially when it comes in different forms. Sometimes the same person as yesterday, sometimes a faceless mass. The radio starts crackling in and out with frequencies shouting madness and despair. The stain of this can last the entire day. I can only take so much before the brick and mortar of my mind begin to crumble away.
Looking back, there has always been a trail of breadcrumbs that I was unwilling to notice, leading me to my current mental issues.
Coming to terms with my own being and perception of reality has only deepened those cracks in an already unstable environment. The shadows stretch longer, and the fingers of time scrape the top of my brain like a farmer’s rake. Managing my day to day has become a singular goal to accomplish—sometimes hitting the mark, sometimes failing miserably. The vision I have for my future is bleak, blurry, and riddled with puzzles that are missing pieces. Pieces of myself—the corners and edges that frame the entire image.
Drifting in and out of retrograde consciousness slowly thins my patience and my pride—each day a percentage less than the last. The flickering flashlight in a horror movie, losing battery. The back and forth of not being able to understand how negatively this had affected my mental status only prolonged and exacerbated the issues. I would rather wander aimlessly in the darkness than be led by a dying light. At least I would be able to have some consistency with scheduled mania.
I never expected myself to feel comfortable enough to put any of this down on paper, always feeling as if I don’t have anything to say.
The reality is, I have too much—or feel as if it would be written in nondescript hieroglyphs. Words that transcend my mania and pierce the veil of my reality. Letting people into my world has always been a challenge. I’ve always struggled to actually gain comfortable composure in relationships. The paranoia always ran rampant, like a flooding river swiftly dragging me under with the current, unknowing where I will land downstream.
Sometimes I drown, and bring everyone with me that I care about. Feeling the icy touch of my issues bleeding onto others brings me even more shame. It’s hard to notice the difference in my emotional and mental state when you can’t go lower than a zero. Beaten and bruised into reclusive habits, I have learned to shut out those that care about me. I don’t want them to be dragged downstream with me. I know these habits are diminishing my mental status, but I continue to drift further away with each storm.
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