I was bored, that’s why I did that I was bored so finally texted you back I was simply bored so I indulged you in bed But that was also boring - why did I do that? I performed for you and that was fun for Me I made you laugh I made you feel bad for Me I made you leave It’s all manipulation, and that too, was fun for Me Who knew? Who knew that being bored could be so fun? I realized I don’t like you I’m too good for you I realized I liked you, only because you liked m

Each morning I wake and take my medication. I never wake from a restorative sleep but I suppose it’s better than waking at two in the morning and truly facing my thoughts. I always seem to ache all over and a stale taste of nausea rests on my tongue. I’m forced to face my body sooner than I wish but my mirror is across from my bed and immediately reminds me of what I’m constantly trying to escape; my own flesh. It’s not all bad I realize as I saunter out of my room into the k

Fake it ‘til you make it. That’s what they say, isn’t it? "Kailyn, turn your empathy button on." That’s what my mother used to tell me. Maybe if I feigned empathy it would come to me. So I performed it until it became muscle memory. I studied emotion as if it was a foreign language. Some people learned etiquette and manners from a young age, and I did as well so when it came to empathy, I watched people closely. Mirroring appropriate pauses, softening my voice at the right mo

It happens in dark hallways. It happens in the car and at the beach too. I felt it in Paris, in Greece and San Francisco with you and you and you. It’s a feeling, a sensation that used to have a name but these days I can’t blame it on a diagnosis, my parents or heartbreak; I’m just like this. A tourist in my own life who is perpetually searching for a tour guide. I merely feel like a visitor who is afraid of the water but not death, yet I am still amazed that we can see the m

If I follow the notion that we live in a simulation, which I often do these days then it would be obvious and expected that I am in control of my fate. Perhaps that’s contradictory because fate has no place in a simulation I suppose. Nonetheless it would be ideal that my actions would ultimately lead to favorable outcomes however I’m still trying to work that part out. What interests me isn’t whether we’re living in a simulation. It’s why I want it to be true. If nothing els

It takes a simple idea to take root in the mind, or at least in mine. Bipolar is the soil, and the delusion quickly takes root. I heard of a place, potentially fictional, but whether it’s real or not, it’s called Clockwork Circus. There is mutual respect: follow the rules, respect them, and you’re safe. You’ll return to where you belong, safe and sound. My free will, however, allows me to either be obedient or defiant and curious. I need an escape. My life depends on it. The

Would you choose to live this life over again? I can’t say that I would. Already I’ve tried to escape this one. I want to appreciate this life I’ve been given but lately I’ve been dwelling on the pain it’s brought me. They say life happens for you not to you and I’ve taken that with a grain of salt for taste. The good times that have produces known joy I just can’t seem to remember as of late. However, I do remember times thinking, fuck, I wish life was like this all the time