poem for a new day

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i’m learning the truth.

it wasn’t my fault.

it had nothing to do with me.

never did.

(there was a real us, i do not second-guess that)

i can’t see inside the mind – nor can any of the rest of us.

we are a silent group.  we love them.

yet – we have to decide whether love is enough reason to stay.

“Compared to bipolar’s magic, reality seems a raw deal. It’s not just the boredom that makes recovery so difficult, it’s the slow dawning pain that comes with sanity – the realization of illnesss, the humiliating scenes, the blown money and friendships and confidence. Depression seems almost inevitable. The pendulum swings back from transcendence in shards, a bloody, dangerous mess.”
― David Lovelace

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