I like to think of myself as unfinished, under construction, really. Almost like reading a really long chapter book. The longer it goes on the more I know but the more questions I have. I don't think I'll ever fully understand myself. But for now I am trying. I am beginning to shape myself into something I think I'll enjoy.
Dissociative Identity Disorder:
There is not very many beautiful parts to dissociating. I don't even really know how to explain it. There's not general way to explain it, everyone experiences it differently. And it's not the way media has it represented. I'm scared but I am not a monster. For me it's like a dream. you know, the ones where you feel awake but you also might acknowledge you're still sleeping. Lucid. That's what I call it, I don't know which of my memories are real and which of my memories are made up, which parts are me and which parts were created by myself. I mean, for the most part. In a literal sense. I do. It's mainly just details where my mind becomes slightly lost within the blur.
Sometimes I like to think that I'm okay.
I guess that's actually a little vague. It's not that I'm not okay, in a literal sense I mean. I'm fine, I'm usually in a pretty neutral mood. Occasional highs, seasonal lows. Most days I have control, I'm usually pretty good at keeping myself grounded. But sometimes I slip, I stumble the tightrope And lose myself. Not forever. Just for a while.
Depression:
Depression is a little odd for me. I was bad for so long and then I was good. She sat in the back of my mind like an unknown bruise. The pressure was there but I didn't notice except for a little soreness. And now I can feel myself beginning to get bad again. More like a bloody nose. The sniffles have started. The low taste of iron. But there's no need for a paper towel yet. I am good when I'm good. And when I'm not it's numb. Like when your foot falls asleep. It kind of tingles and you know it hurts but you can't feel what's really happening. And then I cry. And I sleep. And that's how I'm living right now.
Asleep.
YOU ARE READING
Chaotic
Poetry**EDIT** so, I started this when I was 15 and haven't touched it since I was 17 I think it would be interesting now, almost 5 years later to come back to it and add some things. Just some stuff I need to allow myself to say. A lot about life. A lot...
