hold on

Holding on is painful. I remember going on the swings at the park when I was little and sometimes it hurt because I held on too tight and I would look at my hands after and they would be full of marks and rust. That's what it feels like now except no matter how tightly I hold on I seem to start slipping.

I want to hide because I don't know which mood is me anymore, I don't know who I am. Am I destined to be depressed, is that just who I am? Are all my good days manic days? Is continuing to talk about how I'm really doing even good for me? I sit and wonder.

My parents loom like an old spinster in my dreams. I can't sleep, I'm trying to stop napping, this makes things momentarily worse. My hair is falling out from stress, my stomach is in knots, I have no energy to do anything. I'm emotionally drained, physically drained, everything drained.

The soul-eating-skull-trotting-mud-monster holds me down and has its way with me. I get stuck on things. I mull thoughts over and over until they stink. I race, I stay still. I am frozen, floating, drowning, downing pills that don't seem to do shit. My love hate relationship with living and trying to get better.