White Noise by Scott Barnes
-=-=-=-=-=-
I'm awake, I don't think I ever slept,
My mind and heart racing, thinking too much,
Keenly aware of the damage, the hurt,
My heart bleeding in a place I can't touch.
Forgetting is the hardest part tonight,
Ignoring the pain is an impossible dream,
I can't even dream, still awake and alone,
Losing my mind and my soul, so it seems.
Sobbing with frustration, anger, sadness,
I can barely breathe through the tears,
These waking nightmares keep torturing me,
My demons formed out of pains and fears.
I wish my mind could be put to rest,
You know my heart has been put to the test.
Thoughts, fears, hopes, tears, losing my poise,
Thoughts, fears, hopes, tears, in the white noise.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
An essay on Bipolar Disorder
These are the thoughts of someone suffering from depression.
I feel so empty. I'm not sad, I just can't seem to feel anything but complete emptiness. It makes existence seem pointless. I just want to change everything. I don't want to be me, I don't want the life I'm living. I can't even justify calling it living. I'm a hollow shell, going through the motions. I have no sense of purpose. I have nothing to call my own. Everything I have is simply borrowed or rented from the world. Even my body and my mind. My heart, my soul, and my mind are broken, shattered into pieces. I can barely convince myself to do simple necessary things, like eating. My life is meaningless, and I am worthless. Nothing matters. In this state, I could do anything, but I don't want to do anything. There's no point to doing anything. It's all ultimately for nothing anyway. I can find no contentment, no peace, no comfort. Disquietude. Tired and unmotivated, yet restless and yearning. I can't seem to stop thinking, but I don't want to think. I don't want to be aware. I don't want to be. I want nothing. I want to be as non-existent on the outside as I feel on the inside. I don't want to die, I just wish I had never existed. Soon, however, this shall pass. Soon, my mind will start to work correctly again, my feelings will return, and I will have purpose again. For now, however, I wish I wasn't here. I wish I wasn't anywhere.
I know these thoughts all too well. I have been in that state of mind more times than I can remember. Eventually I'll try to post the opposite side of my bipolar disorder, the manic state. I say I'll try because unless I'm in a manic state, it's incredibly difficult to remember what it feels like. Many times I can't even remember what I did in that state of mind. I can remember though, that it is an indescribably wonderful feeling, euphoric bliss. I long so badly to feel that way, but I know I can't. I need to continue my treatment, even though it means I may never feel like that again, because the problems it causes, as well as the depressive times that come with it are simply too destructive. This is why bipolar disorder is absolutely horrible, it's like being a drug addict, but the drug is your own mind, hopelessly broken by malformed genetic code. Yes, bipolar disorder is genetic, and hereditary. Which also means it can never be fixed, medicine can only partially relieve the symptoms. I will be tortured by this for the rest of my life, and if I ever have children I would quite possibly pass it on to them. All these things of course make the depression all the worse. However, with the medicine I am taking, the episodes are much less severe and less frequent, so it's more tolerable. A part of me will always want to just stop taking the medicine though. I struggle with myself every day when I take it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that longing for the manic state makes it difficult. Sometimes I worry that I'm not the same person I was without the medication. I worry that my creativity will suffer because of it. That it will weaken me, make me less passionate. However, I know I must take the pills, without them my disorder would slowly overwhelm me, my condition would worsen.
I am not crazy, I have a very real illness, and wish more people understood just what it is, and what it does to the people who have it, like me. I hope at least someone reads this, learns from it, and gains some insight into this sickness of the soul.
I feel so empty. I'm not sad, I just can't seem to feel anything but complete emptiness. It makes existence seem pointless. I just want to change everything. I don't want to be me, I don't want the life I'm living. I can't even justify calling it living. I'm a hollow shell, going through the motions. I have no sense of purpose. I have nothing to call my own. Everything I have is simply borrowed or rented from the world. Even my body and my mind. My heart, my soul, and my mind are broken, shattered into pieces. I can barely convince myself to do simple necessary things, like eating. My life is meaningless, and I am worthless. Nothing matters. In this state, I could do anything, but I don't want to do anything. There's no point to doing anything. It's all ultimately for nothing anyway. I can find no contentment, no peace, no comfort. Disquietude. Tired and unmotivated, yet restless and yearning. I can't seem to stop thinking, but I don't want to think. I don't want to be aware. I don't want to be. I want nothing. I want to be as non-existent on the outside as I feel on the inside. I don't want to die, I just wish I had never existed. Soon, however, this shall pass. Soon, my mind will start to work correctly again, my feelings will return, and I will have purpose again. For now, however, I wish I wasn't here. I wish I wasn't anywhere.
I know these thoughts all too well. I have been in that state of mind more times than I can remember. Eventually I'll try to post the opposite side of my bipolar disorder, the manic state. I say I'll try because unless I'm in a manic state, it's incredibly difficult to remember what it feels like. Many times I can't even remember what I did in that state of mind. I can remember though, that it is an indescribably wonderful feeling, euphoric bliss. I long so badly to feel that way, but I know I can't. I need to continue my treatment, even though it means I may never feel like that again, because the problems it causes, as well as the depressive times that come with it are simply too destructive. This is why bipolar disorder is absolutely horrible, it's like being a drug addict, but the drug is your own mind, hopelessly broken by malformed genetic code. Yes, bipolar disorder is genetic, and hereditary. Which also means it can never be fixed, medicine can only partially relieve the symptoms. I will be tortured by this for the rest of my life, and if I ever have children I would quite possibly pass it on to them. All these things of course make the depression all the worse. However, with the medicine I am taking, the episodes are much less severe and less frequent, so it's more tolerable. A part of me will always want to just stop taking the medicine though. I struggle with myself every day when I take it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that longing for the manic state makes it difficult. Sometimes I worry that I'm not the same person I was without the medication. I worry that my creativity will suffer because of it. That it will weaken me, make me less passionate. However, I know I must take the pills, without them my disorder would slowly overwhelm me, my condition would worsen.
I am not crazy, I have a very real illness, and wish more people understood just what it is, and what it does to the people who have it, like me. I hope at least someone reads this, learns from it, and gains some insight into this sickness of the soul.
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