theres a brain in there if you look past the whirring cogs

nothing aches more than finally swimming to the surface to find that everyone's given up on fishing you out from underneath

love is put into perspective the second it's pulled out from under you

you forget you're not safe in the city until you finally leave your bed and fall through the plot holes in your daydreams

maybe i have a flair for the dramatic or perhaps i truly am living tragic cliché after tragic cliché

does the quirky friend get neglected for someone exciting and new, or does the narcissist finally face that they're not as important as they deluded themselves to be?

these tiny influences we all supposedly have on each other are beginning to feel condescending

how can one feel so significant yet so insignificant?

(don't answer that, my psychiatric records will for you)

xoxo, your favorite bipolar disorder haver <3

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