Hypomania

A taste of the feelings of hypomania

The sun is confusing when it blends in partnership with sharp frozen air. I am a scientist for a moment, and then i want to be dead. Alive, dead, alive, dead, alive, dead. There is so much traffic that i just want put an end to the pogo stick fantasy world, where expectations burn into black ash and emptiness, where the brightest sounds and the most colorful words become poison food and salty air. But i am afraid of flat, of feeling nothing. nothing. nothing.

I look into my cup of coffee and i see time with not a trace of element. It isn't tangible. I can't seem to be able to hold it in my hands. It slaps my face in ridicule. I tool about inside of my temporary installation, purple velvet lines my thoughts as i plan the most extraordinary of ........

Questions asked of me seem inappropriate. I mix around with a wooden spoon, such a delicate process, processing webbing that doesn't seem to begin, hence a never discovered ending as well. Pulling through a perverse crowd in a grocery store prior to some obscene holiday, as the boys of bungle entertain my inner voice. I read my words later and i know where i am going if i don't go to the amber bottle and i am freaking out phobic beyond all reasonable reasoning, seasoning my entry for abnormality. Can't i just be me? I know that i will not live much longer.

Paradise, now, if i don't think. I have used up my time, the doctors are SICK of me, my non-compliance and my borderline, histrionic personality. They say i am schizoaffective and then i get reflective and death looks even better. I would never leave a letter. I would take a plane to Amsterdam or London and talk to mothernature in a different land and then bury myself in the sands of black suffocation, ingestion, and buy a cool hat to be buried in. I am so up yet there is a twist, a second layer, an underlying pain, so severe, so alone, in my salad bowl brain and i can't contain the contents much longer. sorry for spilling so much and being out of touch and dampening already dampened moods and saturating the screen with my obscene rambling super 8 movie.no more.

none has entered and millions leave as quality figures into a distant memory and a costant constant

I love you all.

-Elizabeth

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