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For my manic-depressive friends

I am so, so sorry

For every time I was manic

When you were depressed

I’ve just met my match

Someone so manic

When I’m so depressed

And gods help me

I want to curl up and hide

So much movement, so much energy

Am I like that?

I’m so, so sorry

If I hurt you when I’m up

Because no one around me

Has ever been

Manic like me, near me

Depressed like me, near me

Chocolates and roses are things that make some people happy, happy, happy!

For some they’re bullshit. They’re just food and flowers, one that can taste bad (and can rot your teeth) and another that can smell bad (and can stab you).

Now, not all chocolate tastes the same, nor do all roses smells the same, and they all have different stages in their ‘life cycle’. A freshly harvested cocoa bean tastes very different from a newly made chocolate of any type. Just as that newly made made chocolate tastes different from the bean, it tastes different from a year-old, half-melted chocolate bar on the bottom shelf of someone’s cupboard. A blooming rose smells different decaying rose. For those with sharper smelling nose, a living, blooming rose smells different than a cut blooming rose (the decay starts to seep in in a cut rose).

It is also important to understand that chocolates can have meanings depending on who you give them to and the day, as can roses with their color and type. (I, personally, favor calla lilies, but something with roses and calla lilies is cool. Just roses - boring.) Or, as previously stated, they can be bullshit, or just mean nothing.

If you’ve heard the spoon theory of life, I don’t generally have many spoons these days. Luckily, I mostly deal with people who understand chocolate and roses and don’t think they’re bullshit.

This morning, as I was texting a friend and being happy, happy, happy in text, I realized I’d rather just lie down and hug someone and not get up, ever. I’m so tired. The chocolate is just food. The roses are just flowers. Without the hug, it’s nothing. I don’t want sex (sorry, not sorry). I don’t want marriage (I’m already married and I love him). I just want to lie down and fall asleep hugging someone who cares.* Or someone who cares about me, hugging me. I’m so tired and everyone’s so busy and I feel like I’m useless.

The non-depressed people will say “well make yourself useful”. It’s taking all the spoons I have to coherently write this. I’m not sure if it’s coherent.

Every day a mistake is made

And the people around me suffer for it

My mind screams

My heart aches

My mouth babbles

And I can’t tell which way is up

Or down

My feet become my hands

My hands grow ears

I cannot operate my life

For fear of letting loose something

Useless

Hopeless