Bipolar

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Thoughts

Turned into

Curiosities

Now appear in my mind as

Reality.

I’m not who I thought that I was,

And society is

 

Biasedly

Bitter.

But they aren’t the ones that have to pretend to be okay

When their

Bicycle

 Spirals

  Into

 A

        River,

When

Biological Tendencies

Bite them in the ass,

When they don’t feel like they belong

To the

Extent of

Bisecting their life,

Because they don’t feel

Loved.

They don’t know what it’s like to

Die

Five times and have to run a marathon just to feel human.

Just to feel like they have the right to breathe the same air as anyone else.

 

And that’s okay.

 

I don’t want them to have to go through what I am

And will go through

As long as I live,

Whether that be another minute

Or ten

Billion

Years.

It’s not like timing’s ever been on my side anyways.

But no,

I don’t feel

Privileged

To

Suffer

Like this.

I don’t mean to

Assume

Stereotype

Or misjudge

Anyone.

 

That’s not my purpose in this world.

Or anyone’s for that matter.

But I feel bizarrely obligated

To speak up for my

Sisters and Brothers

That can’t

Or won’t,

That need someone to speak up for them,

Like I did,

And to beg of those that can’t yet comprehend to see that we aren’t just the

Attention-seekers,

Dramatic Demons,

Little specks of dust

That some see us as.

We are human.

Bipolar.

Kinda leaves a rotten taste in your mouth,

Right?

That’s because society gave us the flavoring we have now.

And maybe I’m over-exaggerating,

A little,

Or

A lot.

But that’s just who I am,

And in my mind,

I don’t see the good people,

But the ones that

Discriminate,

Bully,

And dig at your ever-diminishing pile of self-esteem

Are vivid in my imagination,

And in my reality.

So no, I don’t mean to under-appreciate those that don’t

Judge

Bias

Label

And define us by our covers,

Without putting value to our internal beauty,

But there are some people that aren’t willing to

Open up our stories,

Read them,

And try to understand them.

Maybe even try loving them, for once?

 

I’m trying to learn, myself, that being bipolar doesn’t define who I am, and that I don’t have to say goodbye to the person I thought I was, and still am.

 

I’m a person.

 

And that always should come first.

 

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