I wish reality wasn't so poisonous. I wish I knew if it is me that is poisonous instead, toxic to myself, and to others. I have burnt all my bridges, just as I tried to build new ones. Can I truly blame my sick mind for my mistakes? And if not, then holding myself accountable for my faults, for my wrong doings driven by my mood swings means I can't possibly feel compassion for myself.
During this unexpected period of clarity I should feel optimism and yet I feel mostly unpredictable, cognizant, hyperconscious...... Part of me wants to enjoy these quiet moments and part of me is still embracing for the worst. I have convinced myself that if I am ever so vigilant and I am prepared the worst won't happen again. Truth is, part of me fears that it will start all over again, that it will come back, any day, any moment, and everything will blow up.Truth is, most of the time I still feel like a walking, living ticking bomb.
Freedom from pain might be temporary and it comes at a great price. I try not to look back and regret my mistakes, made when I was not myself.
I am myself now. This new found strength and clarity feel foreign to me after spending so much time in the dark. I am having a hard time feeling inspired, mostly because my brain is not used to stability. No highs and lows dictating my creativity, only my brain, strangely sharp and clear, only my thoughts, coherent and free of pain. If desperation and suffering will no longer inspire my art, I wonder what will........
“There is always a part of my mind that is preparing for the worst, and another part of my mind that believes if I prepare enough for it, the worst won’t happen.” Kay Redfield Jamison