Thoughts for Erich, sent 11/2013

I sent this to guy that I had reconnected with in India as I was manic. We had known each other when I was in High School and our distance didn’t stop us from calling each other every night. When I began speaking to him again in India, we would message each other all day, everyday, until I went to the hospital. In psychosis, while home, I had seriously scary delusions about him and eventually cut off all communication. I have to thank Facebook for saving all those messages… They are an attest to my unraveling mind. Months later, I decided to talk to him again and let him know what had happened to me, mentally. The phone call was tragic as we saw how different both our lives had become. I wrote this, reflecting on it all… It is simple but true to how I was feeling at the time. Now, more than a year has gone by and our relationship seems to be a distant memory:

There was a time when he took my hand;
Speaking in such fluent wisdom,
Such dashing charm.
Somewhere I got lost.
Recalling the hue of his eyes,
His smile,
The way his body pressed onto mine
As he embraced me in a way I could never forget.
There was something that drew me to him.
Something unexplainable,
Unnecessary.
We were different, sure.
But that was what I had been looking for.
I used to daydream for hours,
Waiting for the moment he would call out for me.
Waiting to hear his voice,
See his messages;
Anything.
He kept me going through the day.
Reminding me of home,
Possibilities.
And now the only thing I have left to hang on to is that;
Possibilities.
Will it ever be like before?
Have I changed?
More than I fear the unknown—
I fear myself.
What has happened to me?
What has happened to this?
My heart has drifted so far away
I often imagine I left it in India.
In the crashing waves of the ocean,
The breeze shuffling the coconut trees.
I like to think I can still look up to the stars
And know he can see them the moment I do.
No longer waiting for the hours to pass
So I can talk to him again.
But now we are separated…
Again.
I never seized the time I spent sane in my home,
Always drifting in my thoughts of what had happened.
Why did it happen?
I don’t feel I deserved that.
I don’t feel he deserved that.
But it undoubtedly happened
And it was perhaps unavoidable.
I hate knowing I am apart of this label.
This subculture of insane.
Where my mood swings over months of mania
To dumps of depression.
I cry at night knowing what I’ve done.
Flash backs come to haunt me in the most inconvenient times.
My stomach churns,
My heart sinks,
I feel alone,
Breathless and confused.
All I can do is wait for time to pass
Just knowing it won’t wait for me.
What will become of us now?
Will it ever me the same?
Can we ever be friends
Caught in those daydreams?
I wish so much to go back home
Despite the torture of memories it brings.
At least he would be closer.
At least I would have a second chance at seeing him again.
Its been years.
And how the years have flown.
As I look up at the pale full moon light
Fighting its way between the clouds,
I can only hope.
Hope that everything will be okay.
Hope that I don’t spin into psychosis again
And wrap around false ideas;
Delusional conclusions
That define me as mad.
Surely every fleeting second will go by just the same.
Fast or slow,
It doen’t matter.
But this is how I feel right now.
These are my thoughts.
Writing them down puts me at ease
But sending them will take courage.
And its this courage that I haven’t felt in a long time.

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About Robyn

"If you haven't known insanity, you haven't lived."
This entry was posted in Recollecting India, Recollecting Insanity and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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