Battling Bipolar

"Sometimes one can only find Heaven by slowly backing away from Hell." -Carrie Fisher

The sleep is so comforting. It covers me like a quilted duvet; it's heavy and I cling to its warmth. The darkness here deafens me but with it comes peace and serenity. I sigh in relief and am surprised to feel a cold sensation in my lungs. Waking up, the frigid air flowing in pierces my veins with icicles sending my body into convulsive chills. The tiles of the bathroom floor are so cold against my face they burn. Their decorative pattern, littered with empty orange pill bottles and the crinkled golden wrapper from atop a champagne bottle, swirls into my line of view sending my stomach reeling. Vomit lurches from between my pale, cracked lips cascading down my cheek and resting soggily in my hair. God drags me upright to my hands and knees to allow a breath to fill my lungs again amidst the bile choking me with acidity. Blood
pulsates to my head as my body refuses to lift it higher than my heart, causing darkness to seep into my vision. Help, I think, but cannot form the words. Left leg first, I lift one knee, then the other, followed by hand, then hand and slowly slither my way against the tile floor out of the bathroom towards the sound of life and slowly, I back away from Hell.

Dettagli