long form void screams

Self Preservation (Spring 2016)

this is how my world ends (Spring 2017)

Two Poles (Spring 2019)

Self Preservation Take II (April 2020)

br//eak (September 2020)

In Our Own Voice (February 2021)

Locked In (April 2021)

Mankind's Greatest (May 2021)

Identity (August 2021)

Virgil (October 2021)

Upside Down (January 2022)

Baseline (July 2022)

Boston State (September 2022)

Birthday Cake on Blake (October 2022)

Overheating (November 2022)

The Suitcase (December 2022)

Me & You (February 2023)

Socks (October 2023)

Revision (November 2023)

Climbing Mountains (February 2024)

Brand New (July 2024)

What Could I Say (September 2024)

roses in november (November 2024)

fragments (November 2024)

Disclosure (December 2024)

There but... go I (Summer 2025)

sick and tired (September 2025)

Kintsugi / Kin Su Gee (November 2025)

so easy to sit in shame

risk losing everything that you worked hard for It's only your own identity You feel frozen, forced to not share Fearing repercussion, retaliation readjustments as you know they will hold you at arm's length going forward always view you and your work through the lens of your diagnosis

Any little mood shift, behavior quirk don't you dare snap even if you do disclose You'd still have to mask for their comfort

they turn a label into a noun a stand in for you, shorthand for your name a stereotype that shadows you of course you have a temper and even if you don’t you know you need to behave like “A good little bipolar" your work is "pretty good for a bipolar” your personhood remains unsaid

better to remain silent, stilted, segmented static to change is a risk you can’t take a leap of faith and a trust fall where no one’s there to catch you

deep breath you can only hold it for so long it’s time to come out of the closet bust down the door

break chasm disrupt fracture tear schism stop

When it's time to surrender yourself  scared as you stop fighting and the last bits  of you fade 

away

In your place  Fragments coalesce together Until they seem to make sense

Everything is twilight fog.  Lies as your foundation.  Virgil as your guide, an unreliable narrator.

dragging you through your delusions your family through hell the descent fast, overnight  in the blink of an eye

One piece of you remains Unhelpful reminder that You have been here before as recursive explosions scatter you  again

climb back, get stuck fall down, fall apart  too many times to count

collect all your pieces get back up once more the tried and true slog

You put in the work so at the top you stand between acute and chronic manic and stable lost and found

roses in november (Nov 2024)

each year the frost comes slowly day by day later and you still have roses

powerful echoes are deafened to a dull roar so you will have roses

What Could I Say (Sept 2024)

I didn't realize how angry I was until you died  That's not quite true It was that I didn't realize how much I avoided the work Time doesn't heal all wounds  But they can fade, fall to the background

At least until I start talking about it Friends, strangers  The anger and bitterness rise quickly Unwelcome guests Out of place But justified to me for the situation if only others knew 

Betrayal a time and a place that was safe ripped away from me

Years spent upon this rock You built this church Flocks of families baptisms communions weddings and funerals the CCD to confirmation track from latin to the vatican to english

a cradle catholic inheriting traditions that spanned generations and continents I took pride in what you taught me from the longest tenured altar server to a 3rd generation lector 

when I needed an extra hand to hold keep me from spiraling back down the void that I had just clawed out of  You gave me your time spending it as if you were a millionaire  not someone with a vocation, a solemn vow

I didn’t leave by choice it was thrust upon me after all those years  the system failed me

I couldn’t turn to you when I had to report him He’s on file now by the way but nothing was done for me Coming back was not an option

I'd tell the newly diagnosed me all sorts of things: 

That you can do great things and little things and celebrate both. 

You'll kick ass academically and graduate on time.

But it’ll take years before you actually know what you want to do.

That the isolation doesn't pay off in the long run.

Try not to stuff so much down, it’ll just boil over. 

or erupt like a volcano

That you’ll build a toolbox of coping skills 

so when covid happens, you’re actually glad you’re bipolar

all your supports are already in place

That you learn to love taking photos, going on a walk, even a run

That your diagnosis doesn't restrict you, it frees you. 

your meds are never a crutch. 

True, they’re not a one size fits all solution

they certainly do help

That sometimes side effects happen. It’s okay to change doses.

That embracing your identity means you find community

You're not inspiring, you're resilient.

That Recovery is not a straight line.

Climbing Mountains (Feb 2024)

I Carry my diagnosis  a mountain on my back say nothing for fear of calling attention to myself for fear of people’s reactions their judgment

Either I slip away and let the stigma Consume me Or

tread water until I find my footing  find a direction  Climbing as one step up, forward, through  then another

when that mountain sized rock drags me back all the way down Challenging my momentum I shake it off  try again with one step up, forward, through 

I want to Chip away bit by bit turn that stigma into a rock sized mountain a pebble  make it something of my own that I have power over rather than it have power over  me 

Because my diagnosis is something that frees me, not constricts me. So I Celebrate because  in the end…

Revision (Nov 2023)

To start 

I never wanted to be overwhelmed but it happened more than once and even after my world ended for the last time

sometimes the sheer force of the memories Made me feel it was happening again  Vibrant violent  Scrunch my eyes and shake them away Before I feel the undertow

I found shelter from the storm a harbor I kept returning  to work on myself as a ship of Theseus

anniversaries of my world ending   would still loom tall catch me unawares well before  Multiple triggers in time

and the last stay ruined my birthday a rediagnosis as a present along with cake they sent up  turning 30 as bipolar and starting all over

If I Ruminate I Drown in a whirlpool

If I Commemorate I’m stuck in a labyrinth 

But what if I Celebrate  my birthday again

My story is not set in stone. Turn on track changes to see how far I’ve come shift perspectives from inward to outward, forward  not casting out but calling in integrating instead of segmenting

finally having a cake again

Socks (October 2023)

Manifest a future where  You throw away the grippy socks at home When you held onto them because you thought they were still comfortable

They were. Welcomed after being stuck in the snake pit A shock to the system  Sorry everywhere's full you'll have to wait here Empty platitudes with hands tied You're sitting 24 hours awake listening to the ER with all the beeps so there’s no sleep to be had hustle with sick folks on overflowing stretchers you're sick too, the doctors tell you can't go home as they hold you at arm's length just not sick enough to jump the line  you're completely drained Deprived of everything, even your sense of time they give you an escort to the bathroom and leave the door cracked

Finally they find a bed in a sterile place, white on white on white with the scent of cleaners clinging to every surface  Staff squeaking as they roll their computers down the hall unapproachable, their screens a shield all you have are shoes with the laces removed You hate the feeling of bare feet on cold tile floor; socks are your best bet They screen your clothes, no drawstrings allowed that or it's uncomfortable pjs

When you say you're a member of grippy socks club  Insiders will know it’s shorthand for trauma and tears and transformation  the alumni association for the best camp you never wanted to attend

Me & You (Feb 2023)

From March Two Thousand and Six   a daily companion  that’s Seventeen Years, Two Months - give or take

yes even those times in college when I pretended you didn’t exist when I was on the lowest dose of meds Or when I graduated to therapy every 3 weeks You’ve been beside me

I measure your age in milestones A junior in high school right?  The same age as me when My diagnosis was given and you showed up

I've carried your baggage  ever since you morphed into a monster  overwhelmed me  my mind going a million miles an hour  For the first time in years  You scared me Brought me to places I never thought possible

The doctors named you, I tamed you  And we came to an agreement You don't rule me, don't own me And you definitely don't speak for me

The Suitcase (Dec 2022)

I wear my bipolar on my sleeve but carry my baggage at arm’s length stealth so you’d never know it’s bigger on the inside.  I don’t owe you this explanation but 

I need my trauma in sight all packed up so it won’t grow too ashamed to unpack it in daylight.  I wait until it’s safe

with plenty of homework to wade through I only want to skim the surface afraid

that the more I push away the more  it pulls me down headfirst into a spiral slide and all that’s at the bottom  is a lake that would make Dante proud  with waves of ice cementing me to

the bottom of the bottom of the suitcase  I’m trapped  with the lid closed the light snuffed out.  Can’t close my eyes when

I have such vivid memories of me as a child because they’re recreated by photographs.  Trauma is only one album away looming like an unfinished book

that everyone says I need to complete to move on. Tent poles guide me Or drag me down deeper where thoughts swim  run into each other  With a discordant mess of

explosions that radiate out from the past to leave memories imprinted layers built upon layers until I’m stratified.  the bands blending into each other over time fading but never disappearing

outright. that's not the goal I tried for. got stuck in a circle recursive loop that turned any stroll down memory lane a  treacherous hike

where the end wasn’t always the destination sign I need to be moving on to something I can work with  give me a pen so I will

write my way out of this  because even Dante got to climb  up to paradise eventually.  I take a picture for the album that is my book. My words are faster, active

tools. Set them down as the next layer on top of everything my voice echoes  over the past.  when I picked up my baggage I never expected how many explosions 

would add to the weight. So stuffed  struggling to contain the story so far.  When I feel safe again it's time to open it  take control of the narrative with my tools.  stare until I wonder do I even need a bag

this big. Balance out the space equals shame equation to slowly downsize. notice the weight shifts then lifts easier to navigate the system map when  I have a crossbody bag 

Overheating (Nov 2022)

toss and turn 

sweat and strangle 

ping pong anyone

I should write that down

where’s my phone 

obviously I'm tweeting that 

oh great story idea 

clock jumps ahead 

slows to a crawl

no fair

I'm in bed already miserable

just let me sleep 

if it's so simple why can't I do it

shut you out, over, off 

what was the word 

my thought died mid syllable

so just stop it

close my eyes

scrunch them tight

it never comes 

Overthinking overheating

a void awake a void asleep

follow the ping pong ball

play by myself and lose

wake up worse off 

blink through the alarm

shake it off as much as I can

it still sits with my bones deep inside

silent vigil day in night out

churning out a feeling as deep as exhaustion

move slower and slower through molasses 

revved up as soon as I lay down again

Birthday cake on Blake (Oct 2022)

The best birthday present I ever got came with the worst cake. 

Now it didn't say Surprise, you’re bipolar!  But given the timing it should have

I was looking for an answer, hadn't ask for cake they saw it was my birthday and sent it up as a surprise But it's hard to enjoy so much sugar when you're stuck in the hospital  with every food color coded, and only the ones that are red for super unhealthy were any good

It’s hard to enjoy when I’ve been inside for a week with no fresh air.  Trapped and drying out with cracked hands and scratchy throats.  pajamas ill fitting and suffocating. The overwhelming scent of alcohol swabs that come with each blood draw smothered my sense of smell. Maybe that's why the cake tasted crappy. 

This is me, turning 30 and celebrating my birthday at the end of the world Never thought I'd spend my birthday here But then the flares came…  

For two years I was afraid:  Afraid of flares that incapacitated me without warning  I am literally out of my mind, and my last thoughts are delusions when my world ends. Over and over. So they added the words severe, recurrent and with psychotics features to my depression diagnosis Afraid because this wasn’t the answer

They bring you in Roughly without explanation A shock to the system Like hydro and electro therapy  in the days of old

The farm disappeared.  They needed the land to cram you in Layer upon layer Room upon room

They want you hidden Pushed aside out of the way Day in day out, static Not worth the effort  officially Incurable

We know, always have known How they work a symptom gets a diagnosis gets a pill  a side effect gets another  It's pills all the way down Until there's nothing left of you 

White coats testing the mind like Farmers tilling the land With a row of brick houses on the edge of campus  The keepers of the land are so close yet far away  holding you at arms length 

Slowly the asylum came down around us You emptied out, destined to drift, not ready pushed out as violently as they pulled you in

We are still here, twelve of us now Return and look up  take refuge in the shade.  If not for a tiny black and white photo  history would be lost 

We stand tall as witnesses.  Our trunks are cannonball strong Our roots entrenched in the earth We take your stories on as our own Absorbed from our depths to the tips of our leaves Your secrets are safe with us  to the end of our time

Baseline (July 2022)

Zero

Hiding in the subtle swings My fine is your good Why don’t you understand that

you don't get to challenge it My mood is my mood to be honest you don't care 

That I can mask in plain sight You'll regret you asked Because I tell you I’m numb

Not the lie you expected I just live like this Too blunt for nice company

Please I'm really okay that's fine by me, so go away, leave me alone

Minus Two

When I say I’m fine I lie I want you to ask me but  I’m masking on the outside and screaming on the inside You can’t hear me, I look fine  I say fine, it all adds up

So you smile and move along

more like swallow and suppress and inside I am drowning tethered in a frozen lake trapped with Virgil as my guide choking on ice shards and tears And I’m drenched in apathy  

Don’t mind me I live here now Virgil says it's time to stop  I like to stay here: It’s fine No really, I'm okay

Plus Three

What you never see is when I’m like ping pong - like a ping pong Ball bouncing topic to topic  To topic  I am here -no I am there

Drowning in my own thoughts  swallowed by an ocean  flooded like molasses  words come chopped like salad

nobody speaks my language Overthinking Overheating submerged in a volcano, cooking still racing through thoughts Devouring and devoured  Incomprehensibly terrifying 

Recursive explosions rattle my mind night after  nights trapped awake on my bed fearing this will  happen again 

Everything turns to twilight fog.  time to surrender myself  the last bits of me fade away My World is ending  And I’m not here right now the last thoughts running through my mind are delusions I remember all of them

Eventually I’ll be able to put  Myself together because all of this has happened before  And that’s okay

Upside Down (January 2022)

Shake off the pressure that sits on you

Whisper when you want to scream

Look down when you want to look up

Shrink and hide when you want to run

Smile when you want to cry

Whatever you do

Don’t 

Jump

Don’t 

Drown

Whatever you do

Don’t look down the volcano

Finish your homework

Apply to college

Be a good little student

Smile

However you feel

It’s not worth it

Your burden is your own

You should live with it

because it's maladaptive

Adapt because

You don’t have to live with it

It doesn’t have to be a burden

You are worthy

Smile 

If you feel like it

Learn with curiosity

Not because they force you

Whatever you do 

You do for yourself

Jump high

Swim far  

It's okay to cry

Don't make yourself back away

Run if you need to, if you want to

When the pressure is too much 

Look forward with hope 

Virgil (October 2021)

Depression is well like Virgil, I'd rather guide you through an extended metaphor than tell you how I really feel.

He meets me at the icy bottom once the tide swallowed me my denial had turned into a smile more like swallow and suppress screaming on the inside

silent no more the waves above us roar echoes cascading down the cliffs of his nine circles

I show him my paperclip the power it holds over me for a long time after I carry one around my belt loop badge of honor for Imaginary Scars scratched and faded Maladaptive coping skills he tells me

Years later I discover that Bipolar is more unpredictable sparked by a bad night's sleep flares so quickly

Unnaturally fast the tide swallows me once more then twice, three, four times I thought I was a stronger swimmer Virgil is sick of me It’s a long way down after all

He says maybe we’re not looking at it the right way For once it’s crystal clear The jagged cliffs smooth over a path up and away from the riptide