Cobalt

I went to a Psych Ward, while there I got diagnosed with BPD and Bipolar 2 among other things. But that first morning in the Ward after I was admitted is something I will never forget. The realisation of the things I did hit me like a cement truck. I didn't know how long I cried for that day. I know it was bad enough they put an IV drip into me.

It's been 3 months since then, 117 days since I got out. 117 days since I started journaling my improvement. 100 days on that dot, as of posting this, on when I started to express myself using art so I don't hurt myself or anyone. 117 days since I committed to becoming a better person.

I will never go back to my old self.

I thought I had to burn every bridge and shred every part of my identity to do that. But I learnt that I can't. As much as I don't want to be who I was. It's still a part of me. But I learned something new.

I can be a better person In spite of who I was.

This hat was something I wore everyday before I was medicated. I took it off after being medicated because I didn't want to associate myself with who I was.

But now?

I'm wearing it again. Not because I'm becoming who I was, no. It's so I can face the consequences. Whenever they may arise. And that I won't run from them.