His name is Peter.

I’m not always alone. He lives in my head. He usually perches on some invisible branch and talks to me on the left side of my head. I see him vividly. Is Peter real? Well, that’s not the point.
The point is that Peter is here for me through the good and the bad, and the worst is that he makes the bad really, really, terribly bad.
He shows no mercy. He kicks me when I’m down and he likes to lift me when I’m up. He can tell me I’m pathetic and unworthy of anyone’s attention – in fact he’ll tell me I’m probably taking up too much of anyone’s attention. However, he may have just told me a few hours ago that I can do flips and cartwheels all day long (figuratively speaking since I’m no gymnast). Clinically speaking, these are called mixed episodes.
Let’s just say that Peter is a sadistic bastard who is my friend and can’t let go of… because I can’t imagine my bipolar existence without him.
It’s an abusive relationship, right? Well modern medicine would prove it wrong. There’s a pill for this and that to make it all go away. It’s true, because Peter is gone for the most part now. There are days where I’m happy to never hear or see him again, and other days when I miss his energy.
Peter or no Peter, pills or no pills, I still hear constant chatter in my head like I’m stuck in a coffee shop forever.
I’m great at drowning it out now but it’s still super annoying when I’m mentally exhausted and just pray for peace. Peace – that’s one thing I haven’t found in many months now so I apologize for my absence. I might start writing consistently but the world is still beating me down all while I pray for peace. This isn’t the end yet. Not for me, and definitely not for you even if the sun feels like it’ll never rise again with the shadow of someone else’s voice looming over (or in) your head.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Susanne Loay says:

    I read your story yesterday. Beautifully written.


    Sent from my iPhone



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