Bipolar and Acceptance

What does it mean to have bipolar disorder?

I was diagnosed with Bipolar I in college. After a clear manic episode while going to Temple University, a psychiatrist working on the campus prescribed me a mood stabilizer, along with the depression and anti-anxiety medications I was already taking.

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I’m Not a Malcontent (a poem)

During winters of discontent
It’s imperative to remember
That I’m not a malcontent
And all I must do is surrender

Surrender to the sky and the sea
And throw my body in the ocean
The water washes over me
The salty air is like a potion

There was a time in my life
When I was in a straight-jacket
And I left the hospital foaming at the mouth
And was met with intolerable colors

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The World is a Mirror (a tanka)

World is a mirror
Stare back, see the beautiful truth
Reflection is you
Give hate and get hatred back
Give love and feel the warmth

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Burn it Down (a poem)

I want to burn it all down
I’m not proud of it
But I must admit
I’m drawn to the destruction
Like a moth to a flame

The death-instinct deep inside
Driving down the highway
Passing the car crash
And turning my head
To see if anyone’s dead

It’s deplorable – this overwhelming urge
And I notice how it surges
And it’s like a scourge
The self-sabotage and the purge
That puts us on the verge
Of tearing everything down

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The Monk and the City that Loves Him: A Novella Project – Part 2

In the previous installment, we meet the Monk and Louie, and Louie is withdrawing and desperate for his fix. The Monk caves in and gives Louie money to get heroin, not knowing what else to do.

Let’s jump into Part 2, where we learn about more about the Monk, a legendary figure in the city.

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Lost and Not Found (a poem)

I. Alienation

I’ve lost track of time too many times
What am I doing here?
No one was there to answer
The streets were so empty
And there I was again, lost

Lost and not found – the story of our lives
Trying to find purpose amid the ruins
Of late-stage American capitalism
And cycles of market collapses

So, I kept wandering
The sky was charcoal but, despite that,
It was so hot the concrete sizzled
Is this what they predicted?

There’s nowhere left to turn
Everyone else has burned
And here I am, lost again

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The Old Man with the Glass Eye (flash fiction)

Halloween is right around the corner, so I wanted to write something creepy. Here’s a piece of light horror flash fiction about a strange, rich old man and a young portrait artist. It’s about 815 words and has an estimated reading time of a little over 3 minutes. Let me know what you think!

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Burying my Blackened Heart (a poem)

I buried my heart in the backyard
And I must say, I did not regret it
My heart was black and soiled
And underneath the fertile soil,
I felt it beating and throbbing

Please, don’t think I’m heartless now
After this, I am only endowed
With great powers of perception
That enable me to disavow
The curse of my ancestry

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Reach out and touch me (a poem)

He said, “Reach out to touch me”
And I thought he was joking
Being pulled back into the maelstrom
Of cycles of abusive relationships

It’s like being lost at sea and
Seeing the North Star
Only to be pulled away, back
To the turbulent waters

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