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BipolarOne day happy and bright,
Inside confused and lip trmebling.
The next tired and dragging,
Inside hurting and alone.
Days muffle together as I am fine,
Days I'm light inside and will share a joke.
Moments where I want to cry my guts out,
Times when I laugh until my stomach hurts.
I am confused here.
Who am I?
Am I the girl that sits in her room,
Whispering 'Why me'?
Or is the real me the one who breathes,
And laughs with people.
The smile you see on my face,
May slip as soon as I am out of sight.
I am lost,
Emotions and alter egos terrify me.
I talk to myself so much,
That the situations I speak of,
As both people in the conversation,
Seem more real than what I converse in life.
My head hurts and I snap at them,
Then I make a joke and we laugh it off.
I wake up some days,
And wonder where I am, and who's room this is.
But no, it is mine.
I remember in a second.
Am I crazy?
Or do I just need to laugh,
Since that does seem to be the best medicine.
Iron MaskMy mask is getting heavier and heavier as each day goes on.
Too much has gone wrong around me and now I live each day choked in anxiety.
The mask I wear to seem fine has turned to lead and my arms ache to hold it up.
Any day now the hard mask I've kept for so long may shatter.
I struggle to not let them see me cry.
This family doesn't need more complications.
But I wonder.
And tears don't exist underwater.
. . . Cellophane.
"I am cellophane. You can walk right by me, step right through me, and never know I'm there."
Does anyone even know when I walk a hall, when I don't?
I need a spotlight; I want to do something flashy.
Put me on a stage; let me make my own decisions.
I am young, but when does it get better?
This isn't what I want.
I want to walk around without a false persona.
I want to be normal.
I want therapy.
i want to be happy.
RenesmeeXJacobThe air chills at my skin as greenery of the northern peninsula rushes past us. His breath huffs in white clouds as he runs beneath my legs. I grip tighter to his muscled shoulders and rub my face into the coarse fur there.
We are coming home after a trip to see Canada.We ae going home to grandma and grandpa's.
It has always felt strange calling them that. They look just like me. Just like my mom and dad. We are all the same. Almost.
Jake and I are different, but we are a part of the family. I am fully grown now, and Jake has stopped aging as well. It's perfect from here on out. For eternity.
I sigh and hug my wolf. He grunts happily, tossing his great head. Then I feel the familiar scratch in my throat and I place my hands on his head to let his see my thoughts.
We slow down and stop. I slide off his back and immediately sink into the hunters crouch. Jacob does the same, but he chooses to lope off to the right. He knows by now not to hunt the same kill. I smile:
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