I’m Not Okay.

I’m not always okay. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve been torn apart. There’s a jagged edge deep inside, and it cuts every time I breathe. Something inside is wrong. That something is bipolar type two. The depressive phase is a killer. It drags me down, below ground zero. I suffocate, choking on pain. Yet there is no reason for the pain.

When it’s bad, I’m lost in the pain and panic. The darkness wraps tight around me, binding me in place. There is no light. There is no way out except through. The more I hide from this pain, the worse it gets and the longer it lasts. I have to face it. All of it. There’s no…