Bipolar Diary: They Say

“You are what you are because of the things you did yesterday.” they say.

But is it really my fault?

I did not choose to be ill.

The fact is, this illness chose me...



A lot of times I ask myself why such a thing would happen.

Why did this illness choose me?

Why must I be --.

Why must I have this torn?

Why?



“Fate.” is what Aya said.

Fate.

It can not be put into words.

So is there no reason why I am like this?



“God has plan and a purpose.” they say.

Then tell me what that purpose is,

And tell me what those plans are.

Tell me when it begins and when it finally ends.

For I am tired of being confuse;

Tired of being scared;

And I’m tired of hoping when it seems to be hopeless.

I know that I am not like anyone else,

I am different and will always be different.

But I didn’t choose to be different.

My torn changed me.



“People can change for the better.” they say.

It sounds so easy but how come I’m struggling to even feel better?

It seems unfair.

And I hear people say

“God is so good to me.” just because something great happened to them.

But how come I am often pain stricken?

Does that mean then that God hates me?





“We love you.” they say
But do YOU really love me.

How come the first time you heard what I have

I saw disgust on your face?

And you mock me from behind because I complain too much.

But what can I do?

What must I do when I am not okay.

Tell me for I am lost.

And you show me pity,

But that is not what I need.

I need you to accept me as I am.

I need you to understand what I have.

I need you to see me for who I am not what I am.

I need you to just be there for me.

Because often times, I feel as if I am alone in this struggle.

I am feel as if I am on my own…



Perhaps I really am.



“Everyday is a new day.” they say.

But how come it feels like my days are the same.

Everyday I feel like I want to escape this life.

I want to escape from this body that feels like a rut.

I know that there is more out there but I am limited,

Things I used to love doing

I no longer do.

Not because I can’t do it,

But because I don’t have the confidence to.

That is why I am ashamed of myself.

I am ashamed of my body.

I am ashamed of me.

And I wish I could just be someone else,

Be somewhere else.

Even for just a short while.

But I am trapped and there is no way out.

I can never rid myself of this shame

For no matter how much I want to run away.

I can not run away from myself.



Everyday is a new day.

Somehow it’s true.

A new day to find out if I’m going to be okay,

Or not.

And everyday I wish that it’s not a day to gather a litre of tears

but to gather a bucket full of laughter.