Schizoaffective bipolar type

I have Schizoaffective bipolar type. You know it's like having a main dish of psychosis with a side of mania and dessert of depression. Forgive my expression but my condition makes me think that I am weak. Cause I can’t get my brain to act like yours does because at any given moment it tells me there’s a bug on my arm. I slap him to make sure he’s gone then I look at the spot where he's at and it's just skin and something is crawling in my mind from within.

It’s like being so fucking happy that your world can’t shatter all the while you hear the voice saying you anit shit and then you tell them mutha fuckers I am the shit forgetting that you’re the only one that hears what they say at the end of the day this shit anit ok.

It’s like seeing things that you can’t explain and this tiny inner voice saying go make out with your pistol because no one will miss you. It’s like knowing that no matter what you do you will see things that people don’t, feel what isn’t real, hear what no one else can.

And then they demand that you act normal? How can I be normal when I am at war in my own mind swallowing pill after pill just to stay alive. Knowing that if you don’t you would be back in a padded cell screaming to yourself. Knowing that all this time your mind isn’t your mind.

Cause you wake up and two seconds later the voices say the bitch is awake and then you see something that is just a mystery and all this on top of wanting to die and then just sit there and cry followed by thinking you can rule the world if they just let you be. But you know this just can’t be.

Nobody knows what it is like to be me. I struggle with the smallest things this poem was war cause the voices just yelled. And my heart wants to stop cause this is all too real and I live with this struggle every day no it is not ok.

I have to say at least six times a day that no you don’t have to answer them back. No, there aren't bugs on your arm. No that what you think you see isn’t really there. Yes you want to die and just ball up and cry and sometimes it feels like you're ten feet tall and it doesn't matter at all. But all the while you say what did I do to deserve all this? What is so amiss in my brain that I can’t sustain my life with a handful of pills and a psychotherapy bill that’s unreal.

Now to all who say how you live that way I say this it’s the only life I have. I'm not ready to just give in a walk away. To think and is to fight a war with myself. To see if to understand that half of what I see is a lie. To hear is to know that most the sound really isn’t around to feel is to know that because you feel it doesn’t make it real. And to know that through all of this you still exist and that even though it’s hard you just have to keep trying cause dying at an option. I live in hell but it just as well cause I’m gonna keep surviving.

By Storm Gray