Affect, Skittish, Schizophrenia
Schizophrenia; a splitting of the mind. A snow globe that shattered, splintered, razor sharp glass breaking into shards.
Bipolar; two sides. Shifting sands. Extremes, chaos, pain, nerve endings white hot with blue flames of agony. Two poles, two hemispheres. One fathomless and dark, one burning with the liquid magma sun light of galaxies inside my bones, burning up into a black hole, eating itself alive.
Brain; two halves. Long division of two lobes, one soft pink globe, split through the centre.
Night and day, day and night.
One zygote that divided into twins; her, and I. I first split in the womb. I’ve been splitting my whole life.
I am simultaneous; both sides of the same coin. When I first attempted suicide, I was trying to unite into one absolution; nothingness. The argument is always the same – heavy and laden and irrational and rational all at once. “If you truly loved us, you’d fight to stay alive.” But the reverse rings weightlessly and unu