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Mad Girl's Love Song
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Jennifer.

Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.

Exams are over and I have survived.

Life has settled perfectly this time; no disaster, chaos, fighting to keep from drowning. One brief moment of discord and then everything found their right place.

Relief.

When the clinic doctor asks if I have been in “good health”:

What I think: well besides the usual eating disorders, anxiety disorders, bipolar symptoms… Yes.

What I say: ermm I suppose so..

Check-list for when I feel out of control:

  • Eat a snack: stabilizing blood-sugar will help
  • Put down the coffee: it will only increase the agitation
  • Put away the work: nothing productive will get accomplished
  • Monitor thoughts: actively listen to the thoughts in my head and what I am telling myself
  • Thought attack: burst irrational thoughts with logic (I am not stupid, worthless, etc.)
  • Attempt breathing exercise/relaxation: try to return to a balanced stable state
  • Take anxiety medication: if all else fails

Sometimes the light falls on my face just right.

My choice now clear:
go on or go under.
Hope, in arrears,
fades to far details.

Sometimes I feel as though there was this period in adolescence wherein I was supposed to learn how to naturally cope with this world. And because I didn’t figure it out in time, the alarm went off and the chaos was let free. That all of this could have been prevented if I just learned —on time..

Making my bed somehow makes me feel as though my day was successful.

I can see the end-line
in the distance
but like a mirage
it gets farther and farther
away

Infused with over-productivity.
I study like a maniac, feeding off the high.
Literature is my food, coffee my hydrant.
This is the perfect plateau; 
elevated but not impaired.

At last.

I can be your china-doll
If you want to see me fall.

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