In My Tragic Heart, Theres Nothing More Disgusting Than This Depression

In my tragic heart, there’s nothing more disgusting than this depression

Wowie! Time to trigger a manic episode and write Latin poetry all night! O rem optimam!

All you people know is how to hurt me in irreparable ways

You know you’re coming into psychosis when everything is contradicted. Nothing affects or shocks you anymore. You’re numb but everything scares you. You’re too exhausted to show any emotion but too vigilant to not do anything about your paranoid delusions. You start to isolate yourself but keep hoping someone will reach out so you won’t be alone with your thoughts. You feel helpless but so prepared and aware of unseen truths. As verbal communication becomes more difficult, you have made sense of what you’re saying but no one else gets it. You need to keep quiet and not endanger yourself, but you end up talking about it anyway. It’s hot outside but you wear clothes for cold weather. You understand that your delusions are just delusions, but you’re not making it up and it is the only real thing to you. There are sometimes things you feel, see, hear, smell, taste, that aren’t really there. You refuse to eat because of your paranoia but you can’t resist. Us psychotics are seen as dangerous, but we are the sufferers of absence. I don’t want to hurt you, I just want to be left alone, I’m just scared.