You tell me that you love me. You tell me that you care. And yet, you stand back a little unnerved by the person that I am.
I state to you that I am in a mood; a mood you ask what does that mean? It means that I am going to be irreverent, flip and with casual disregard, I will ignore you. My sarcasm will have sharp edges, and there are no soft spots to cushion you, only small places you might hide.
I may not be the person that you met, nor the person that you have precieved me to be. I am not all lightness and flowers. There is a dark side to me that you must be willing to embrace.There is a nasty twisted bitch that resides within my soul. She is the blackness that does creep when I start to follow the crazy path to hell.
There are so many facets of me, and not all are defined by the illness I carry. And carry it I do for it is a burden; a yoke around my neck. There is no telling when it will hit. And as I have come to realize, I cannot even count on my own internal diagnosis to counteract the crazy that I become.
And oh hell no is no one going to tell me that I don’t get crazy. Those platitudes do not fly. I look back with clear eyes, mind and heart, and I wonder how do I have a job still? How do my friends still love me? How is it that my brother and mom have not kissed me goodbye? I am so psycho, so unbalanced that I cannot see the sunrise from the sunset.
So as I begin to mend, the medication leveling out my brain, I tease and I taunt. I whiplash you with my tongue to ensure that you can take. And I may find you lacking, I may find that you just to do not stand up to par…..The Crazy, The Me, The Sadness, The Anger, The Regret and all the pain…..they are a part of me here on display.