Mediafire Kate's Playground

Bim-bum-bipolar!

Ubriaca vedo mia madre cercare di asciugarsi sull'asciugamano della cucina.

Che le cade.

Una, due, tre volte.

Alla fine devo girare la testa per non ridere, riprendo la bottiglia di spumante e riempio il mio bicchiere di plastica (che non fa rumore quando lo poso sul tavolo). E bevo. Ancora un bicchiere.

Ancora un bicchiere per cercare di sopportare meglio tutta la sofferenza che mia madre, ogni volta, mi versa addosso come olio caldo. 

I? Bipolar? Maybe. Maybe that's why I write so well, even in alcohol (not me in the alcohol ... oh well, we understood). But I could keep the problem under control ... if only ... if only I could build a happy life.

My mother was not so until a couple of years ago, but bipolar we are born, not you ... and then it becomes a problem that can remain dormant and be expressed only in beautiful things, if you're good. No?

No?

do not know. My head is spinning and I want everything in my life fit into place. That my friend would still have my happiness. And I do not know what to do with this story.

Glaases, Sore Behind The Ear

Another manic phase.

But now is different. I have experienced from the outside, and because for most of the time I was not there, or perhaps because of the degree taken: I have less skeletons in the closet.

The fear, of course, is always there. It sucks as well. Anxiety, fear for those who had stayed home, the usual thing to happen every time I fear irreparable.

But inside of me I could vivermela differently, I could not even think about it for hours, this surface certainly due to the distance.

I would like all the pieces go into place, and that this served to make life better my mother, but I'm pretty sure that even if everything falls into place, there were no worries for the future, the manic continue, because the past is always present and that you can not drive away, which she has already done too much damage and is irreparable. The past to which my mother is so morbidly attached and to which he clings to give vent to all that was rotten inside.

I do not want anything inside me rot.

But I feel betrayed and so hard sometimes ...