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Poem Details
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| Title: | Patterns |
| Author: | Beth Morris |
| Date Submitted: | 12/11/2005 |
| Email: | bethany.morris@gmail.com |
| Poem: |
As a little girl, I would make music videos in my living room. My sister and I would spin around singing, and jump until the floor shook to Debbie Gibson, Maria Carey, and C&C Music Factory. As a little girl, I would hide for days in my bedroom reading book, after book, after book. I would become Anne of Green Gables, be a juror in a John Grisham novel, and be one of the many siblings of Kristy in the Baby Sitters Club. As a teenager, I felt the adrenaline rush of playing on a muddy field diving to stop the soccer ball from crossing the goal line. Knowing that I was the only one who had the final power to win or lose. As a teenager, I screamed obscenities at my parents daring them to challenge me, challenge my behavior, or challenge the dangerous road I was on. All the time hoping they would rescue me. As a college student, I was outgoing, social, and partied for nights on end. Energy radiated from me and attracted people toward me, moths to a flame. As a college student, I screamed in the nighttime. I stayed inside for months. I lost myself. Fear and desperation became the only things that were familiar to me. As a young wife, I was successful in all that I attempted. I was great at my job, relationships easy, fantastic home, things seemed perfect. As a young wife, I dropped the ball. Endless nights of madness lead to days filled with numb hurtful thoughts. I felt like I didn’t know who I was and was becoming someone I didn’t want to be. I was losing control. I thought I was someone different. I thought I was someone new. But this has been me the whole time. If I am bipolar, then bipolar is me. To be me I must accept who I have always been. I don’t know where life is going, but I know one thing, I would chose bipolar. ... |