brain's working in overload

anyone with bi-polar disorder, or anyone living with someone who has it, knows that there is no cure. promises are broken. love is a pain we throw away. hate is what we cling to. i haven't taken my meds in so long, i can't remember what it feels like anymore. my husband hates me, and i have no love for anyone anymore. no one except for my anger at the world. i love that, thrive on it, and right now am drinking it as it slides down my throat into the valley of hell that lives inside, deep inside my belly. if i didn't have kids right now, i wouldn't be here right now. razor blades and pills are too easy anymore. i'm looking death in the face, only this time, it's me i'm staring back at. the me they've all come to love in the last few years has died as i tried to make her come back. no one wants a used container, they want it new, without the damage, and he's no different. what they don't know is that i know what's going on--they all use me for and end to a means, and i like a volleyed ball in the court, take it with a smile. and really, it's death is see smiling back at me, with blood in their mouth, and poision dripping off the teeth. no make me smile as the medicine takes me away again, making me this creature that no one loves or loved. they never will, ever. and the only one to blame is me and my overused and over energetic brain. only it knows why i do what i do. and that makes what's left of a scared little girl that no one wants, very very very sad. hate is the machine, i just use it.

OT: the city is at war video--see it. funny. as. hell. damn you Gabe Saporta.

the sins of the day ebb away slowly while i ponder you

the basement is cold, but functional, better than being at work right now. people who go out into society should never think that they are entilted to be treated better than anyone else. slavery was abolished with the last drop of blood spilled, and i know that was very long ago.

animals crawl around in my mind, lurking there, waiting for the moment when it will be okay to come out and tear apart the world around me. it should be the meds talking now, but when you can't afford them, you try to talk down the monsters in your head, hoping for a minute of peace when you lay you head on that down pillow. pain wracks my brain daily, taming them as much as i can, which is so much harder than i have ever imagined.

i created this as a place that i could write down every fucking thing i can't say, just to have an outlet for those macrabe dreams that surround me when i'm awake. imagine seeing your life fall around you in seconds, all because someone said something defaming you, hurting the thick wall you've built around your heart, callousing all the parts that can die. imagine trying to fix damage done by no one but yourself, telling you to do things you know are wrong, but you don't figure out until after the fact, and the damage is so very badly done.

when i listen to music, it takes the pain away for awhile, bringing in a light that shines down to my soul. everyone should have something like that, a technicolor dream world that opens up when you know if it doesn't you'll die and everything that's made itself a part of you will too.

imagine being someone who doesn't know what it's like to be right ever--because his/her mind won't let them. gray is a world i don't know about. i only see in the harsh colors of black and white while you sit there in that brightly color life--looking down on me.

shut the fuck up, fucker, fuck you and fuck everything you believe in. i own myself, the world i live in, and i am no one to anyone.......not even to me.