I used to be what they call a morning person. Was like a monkey that was let out of the cage after years of imprisonment. Fueled by nothing but immense amount of ‘fuck yeah!’ that was burning within. I upgraded from jumping monkey to soaring monkey extraordinaire as I guzzled down espresso after espresso. So utterly manic that I deceived self and others into thinking that this tour de force me is the only me. Betraying the rest of me. Abandoning it. In my arrogance I actually thought the low me will shrivel away and fucking day. Instead it lay low. Awaiting patiently the time when arrogance will fail. The time when I will become Icarus, winges seared off, plummeting hopelessly…
When lows hit I hide in solitude, perpetually fending off my demons, harbingers of all kinds of dark desires, the most potent one the one that craves the end. Working relentlessly to hide it from the outside world. Pretending and putting on a plethora of masks, mostly clowns, sacred fools, and happy go lucky bears…
With time though the lows started getting longer and longer till one day that so called morning person went missing. No trace left. Dead. Replaced by sleepless night powered by fantasies of the end. As the dawn comes… most mornings I am but a step away from vanishing. Still resisting any kind of meds. Still seeking desperately acceptance within. Desiring the arrogance to stop. To just take the damn help. Or just stop. Just be done. It helps a lot to write it out, to talk if I can, to drop the facade… to expose self out loud. To accept that this is my normal and that I am worth it. To myself. To believe self. To accept self. To accept that I am enough. Even if that means I will be alone. Though, the monkey within craves something more than alone. An equal. Never surrendering. Ignited. Inbound.