My mind moves faster than my fingers can type and my thoughts
form faster than the words can escape my mouth. People ask
me why I can’t drink coffee and I can’t explain to them that I
really have no need for it. I stutter on my thoughts and see
people’s sympathetic looks when they try to understand me.
Some days my day starts at 1 a.m. and other days, my day
doesn’t even start at all because I can’t leave my bed.
People tell me they’re there for me if I need to talk,
but I want them to understand that I don’t really
have much to talk about. It’s just this switch
in my mind that’s constantly flipping between hypomania
and depression without any explanation and some days
it gets stuck in the middle. People think it’s a superpower
because sometimes I can get so much done, but would
you call it a superpower if you knew that sometimes
I drink a whole bottle of wine with my medication just
to go to sleep? That I’m so bad at sleeping some nights that
when I overdose, I’m not trying to die, just trying to
find an easy solution because I’m so sleep deprived.
I’m so moody and I can’t do anything about it but broadcast
hurricane warnings the day you meet me then apologize for the
destruction I’ve caused after I force you out of your home.
Some days my mind constructs an infinite number of possibilities
for the future, but then I get to a point where I realize I have no
energy to make any of it happen. People ask me how I can keep
up with writing a poem a day, but sometimes I write three poems
a day and most days they don’t make sense. My mind is constantly
narrating the story of my life and if I could hook up my brain
to a keyboard, I think I’d be set for life. Everything is a metaphor
and I can’t stop seeing poetry everywhere. My fingertips
get nervous and excited. They are crackling with electricity.
Some days my imagination can’t stop creating things that
don’t make any sense to other people." — 8:30 a.m. (I’m trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse)