my unofficial grip on reality.

My disease only masquerades as happiness, for I can never truly feel it, or trust that it is, in fact a real feeling....

Pt 1. Getting a grip.

Gripping my throat and holding tight, it pulls me under, forces me down and holds me under water until my head is light and dizzy.  I slip into unconsciousness for and unknown amount of time and awake, groggy, cold, confused.  What day is it?  Where have I been?  Why the hell is it freezing in this place? 

That sick feeling lingers in my stomach for days, maybe weeks.  I was forcefully drowned and taken advantage of, I feel it still on my skin, the guilt, the pain, the tremendous need to feel something -,  anything other than the physical pain of this depression that has raped my mind and body.

Distractions now become more prominent.  Hours spent indulging in video games, lucid ideas of what  I could do to make my apartment different than it is, anything to change everything that is current, but no action.  I distractedly choose between pink or grey, forcing myself to forget that inner disgust.  Constantly holding my breath hoping it will prevent the tears from pouring from my eyes.  Staring blankly at my computer screen lost in my thoughts, sinking further and further into a whirlwind of sadness and anger.

Finale; a time for rest.

Sleep comes, as my medicated eyes cannot control their movements any longer.  I drag myself to my pleasantly lit room, to start the beginning of the same movie I've tried to watch for three weeks, and drift quickly to a corpse like sleep, cold and dreamless.  It is over so quickly, almost as if it never happened.

Pt 2. The uncontrollable pursuit of happiness

I awake tired as always, forcing myself up and out of my only comfort.  After the morning wash I notice my eyes sparkling and the uncontrolled widening of my pupils.  A sudden warmth comes over me and my cheeks flush slightly.  A minor self indulgence takes place as I take in my reflection; feeling a sharp sudden jolt of infatuation.  Today I wear a blue shirt, bright and happy, with green birds, ever so joyfully placed around.  Pink scarf.  Primary green jacket, bright socks.  My makeup was effortless, and I'm excited for the day.  Excitedly running around and completing every task on my list, I've become productive.  My mind has become a less clouded raging torrent full of ideas and void of any emotion but this false happiness I have no control over.  I've force fed laughter out of myself into the world.  I'm smiling as though there is no control.  Now I want to paint and sing, maybe dance and visit a friend...after all, there is so much to discuss! Organization takes over, through wild bursts of energy.  I talk incessantly, with quick sporadic thoughts of life the universe and everything in between.

Pt 3. It's back...the one thing that never leaves me,

 the only thing that never forgets.

This effortless forced joy lasts for about eighteen hours before my throat is tightened yet again and I am forced to drown in the pool of unwanted sorrow.  I manically build a put off project for however long it's been sitting there, and from the time a song changes to another, my mascara has already stained my face, dripped to my shirt and I've began the vicious spiral of self loathing and pain.

I wonder how long it will last this time?