The Bottles On My Nightstand // A Prompt

There is a glass I leave open

Full of each positive thought I’ve had in the last few years

Some months it numbers less than others

Lying there open for whomever needs happiness in a moment of despair

Next to it lies a jug filled with each emotion that is not happy or her synonyms

There have been moments where it has overflowed into the glass next to it

I try to cap it in attempts to let no one else but me see inside

A few horror movie scripts could be made of it

This jug’s counterpart is a bottle filled of the years I don’t talk about

You know, the ones I erased from my memory in hope every one did too

But I know they will stay with me past the grave

All the years I didn’t stop hurting, even when I thought there was no hurt left

The memories play here in a movie about my own suffering, still waiting to be finished because I know there will be more years of this despite the little room this bottle has left to fit them in

One more bottle sits, filled with the good times

Capped off so I don’t forget

Moments I couldn’t stop laughing until I cried

Days my face hurt from smiling so much

I know there will also be more of these

Keeping optimistic it will fill before the years of suffering, I keep a larger bottle for the good days ahead

via Daily Prompt: Bottle

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Love // A Prompt

We spent summer afternoons laughing our lungs out on the playground of your town’s elementary school

Those same nights spent trying not to get heat stroke in your poorly air conditioned room, with as many fans as we could muster

The first time we called ourselves a pair, our hands fit awkwardly together

Hearts thumping hard enough to break through ribs but trying to hide our feelings in front of all the people who so badly wanted this to happen

We danced around “I love you” for far too long to some people but it felt just long enough for us

Winter nights we spent in a snowy wonderland, snuggling up to each other for warmth

We grew into each other and the love we had bloomed

Love knows when two people who are meant for each other

We felt comfort in each other’s presence, not always needing words but just a gentle brush of skin or meeting of eyes across a room

Sharing jokes between facial expressions and gestures

As much as I hate to admit, he was home

The spring I tore myself away is still vivid in my memory

The sights, smells, the way the air felt

I didn’t want to admit how afraid I was that he might be the one

And that was the worst mistake I ever made

We both admit we still love each other

It’s just finding the path back to our love and watering it until it blossoms again

via Daily Prompt: Blossom

Prompt

I am but a puzzle of a family of artists and a mentally ill family

I am created of puzzle pieces fitting together, a mosaic of sorts

Coping with mental health via creation

Documentation of storms inside my brain created on paper and canvas

Manic states more than depressive

Mania is filled with color and ideas shifting around trying not to overthrow each other

Depression only looks for the darkness

Either state has me fixate on dying

How afraid of it I am or how I welcome it with open arms

Creating and destroying keep my hands quiet in every moment my brain decides not to be

via Daily Prompt: Create

Changing Seasons

The person I was 3 years ago would not recognize the person I am today

Even if standing face to face

Which is to say neither will he

He will never come back to me now

Which is fine

Since he was the one who broke me

A Time Capsule

For every year of mental illness I have endured

 

2009

Each scrap of food left on my plate

Turning into nearly entire meals

I am sure they have decomposed by now

2010

The bones starting to poke through

Her aggressive hands

The toxic words forced down my throat telling me I am nothing more than her friendship dictated

2011

The first drops of blood staining my bathtub

Dozens of razors, knives, and scissors representing an addiction and all the stark white scars they left behind

Frozen veins from each time she buried my heart further into the ground

Dozens of bruises carefully crafted by her hands

Every skipped meal my body would wish it had years later

2012

The hospital bracelet

Mapped out plans of my funeral, thought out in black ink in what I thought would be the last remnants of my life

Weeks of therapist visits and psychiatrist appointments

All the anxiety attacks induced by the slightest mistake

Every pill I tried with failure

2013

Each hallucination from bugs under my skin to phantom voices and sights

Fears of human touch and living

Hundreds of scars making a home of my skin

All the pills ingested to keep my head close to above water

A year’s worth of cigarettes

2014

Lost love and gained love

His gentle words turning violent yet tinged with roses

Each positive coping skill trying to overthrow the negative trying to still kill me

Intrusive thoughts whispering sweet nothings about how I won’t amount to anything

A year’s worth of cigarettes and additional scars

More pills

2015

The first joint I smoked

Scars and cigarettes engraved on my body

A love so volatile I thought I would drown in his poison eventually dying out

Learning to be alone and to be ok with it

Thoughts of death and self hatred

Trying to love myself the way I should be

A high school diploma

2016

Thoughts of death intermittent but acceptance of the day

Pills, scars, cigarettes

Another love blossoming and wilting

Anxiety attacks over nothing in particular

2017

Wishes of happiness but acceptance that happiness is a passing emotion rather than a permanent state of mind

Another year of pills, scars, and cigarettes

His words still haunting my dreams, waking up sweating, checking for his blood on my hands knowing he’s still alive somewhere

Flinching at hands on my face and arms

A constant state of being on my toes ready for fight or flight