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Roses in the hospital

People would never understand. About the nightmares that crawl underneath her skin. About the pain and the roses. Those red roses she keeps underneath her pillow. She has used the thorns to bleed herself alive, at those dark days of stillness and endless repetition of whiteness, of bareness around her.

But there are other days too. The days she collects the roses. Those incredibly fast, radiant days when she runs with palms full of sun, eyes like volcanoes, heart like neverland and breathes out glitter and kaleidoscopic worlds.

Are you on cocaine? asks the doctor.
No, she replies, unable to sit still, unable to still the tornado of thoughts that seem to have taken over her mind.
Your pupils are dilated.
No cocaine. Where would I get cocaine? I’m locked up. No key. I don’t do cocaine.
Ok. He agrees. She’s just manic. Need to bring her down, before she decides she can fly and jumps off. And gives advice and more medication and sends her off.

She leaves with hopping steps, desperately clinging on the hope that she will fly, that she will never ever crash, never again be crushed down by the devastating darkness that lurks around the corner. She laughs and talks too fast and her eyes are burning. She has to keep spinning or everything will crumble.

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This entry was posted on Friday, September 18th, 2009 at 00:13 and is filed under Writings, life stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

4 Responses to “Roses in the hospital”

  1. Tracy says:
    September 18, 2009 at 09:40

    I appreciate this post. It reminds me of those people I know who are bi-polar in the desire to fly…

  2. Diana Peck says:
    October 1, 2009 at 22:37

    Being a mother of five children and bi-polar, I have a lifetime commitment to not only my own health, but that of my children, who have inherited the gene. Some ADD (in variable degrees), or bi-polar. Husbands who loved to tell everyone that I’m crazy for the sympathy vote. I used to think the other facets of my personality were just symptoms of the disease. Fly away, bleed on the roses, yes. Kudos to a poet who can write in so few words the pain of such a complex disorder.

  3. ampil says:
    October 3, 2009 at 08:26

    this blog touched my soul..cos someway im just like her..well not literally..i want to reach something that i know will never happen but im still dreaming of it that maybe somehow it will come true..and everytime reality says it not going to happen..it hurts inside me..

    nice post..

    http://ampil070485.blogspot.com/

  4. midnightokami says:
    October 13, 2009 at 05:58

    I love this, your a good writer <3

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