Storm

Speaking Bipolar March prompt

Photo by Paul Zoetemeijer on Unsplash

How have I been breathing?

I’m so far down my lungs shouldn’t work.

My body should be failing, but it isn’t.

Only my mind is drowning in the cesspool of the blackness.

I pull myself together the best I can.

I don dark glasses and go to where I need to be.

I don’t look past the horizon.

I don’t look into eyes.

I hold it back until the door closes behind me.

The quicksand holds me steady as I flood the room with pain.

How do I ask for something that I’m not even sure that I deserve?

Who do I send the SOS to from the isolation place?

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