... colors aren't colors and the air feels different when I am in this state. It feels stale. Almost like there is no air at all. Like leftover air. Here and there. Tiny puffs of clouds of oxygen that will soon dissipate. And it doesn't scare me. I don't care. I still prefer this to terror. As awful as this is. I can always sleep for days. Terror incapacitates you and takes away your ability to escape. You become a prisoner in your own body. You can't even trust your own senses. Heat might be cold and everything might be a delusion. I wonder if I will die in a fire one day because I believe it is sand or confetti or something. That would be a pleasant way to die. My last thoughts would be that I was on a beach enjoying myself in the sun or at a party with friends that I made up. I wouldn't mind terribly being totally insane. This half-way thing is a bit horrible. Watching myself be insane and being aware of it is kind of the worst thing that can happen to any human.

 On April 27th, I woke up and I felt it. I felt so alone and isolated. I felt like no one in the world knew where I was or how I felt. I knew the depression had come, and the mania was over.

  attempt number 2 at sobriety.  if I can do this, I can be happy.  maybe I am depressed because I drink.  I must stop drinking.

Today I cried for over an hour to the point where I was dry heaving on my floor. I have not been this upset in a long time over anything and I feel really shaken up. Through a number of techniques I have been able to feel better and to keep myself together but it feels like everything is falling apart. 

 

 Cimmy's job in her household is to keep things clean so people like jaklumen don't trip over them and get hurt.  She also has two kids one eight, one three.

forthelonghaul.org - struggles with mental illness

“A little over four months ago I was in a mental hospital for about a month. In the U.S., mental illness is something not talked about and we are taught to feel a lot of shame around and feel that we are alone. For this reason I feel it is important to be open about mental illness. And so, I dedicate this poem to all of you who struggle with mental illness.”

Mental Gift

Poppin' pills daily - got me crazy,

insurance co-pays track me weighly.

Addictions got me locked in ways I never knew to be;

meekly evade the subliminal toxicity;

lifetime supply prescribed,

neatly packaged individually;

separate and alone,

I watch my mind disengage to the beat of a metronome;

see through to the strings of the master

who controls the puppets dome.

Judgment cut by the

shrieks-of-sirens-,

-sarrenating-souls-in-the-search-for-solace.-

-Solstice-emanating-from-the-tides-of-oceans-,

-throwing-me-on-my-side-,

-hands-stretched-out,-raw-and-vulgar.

Moving through the motions

that the doctor diagnosed me.

This is a short story about a girl who feels she is not complete. It is somewhat true to my own feelings. Please comment so I know what you thought about the story.