literature

Bipolar Disorder is like a Flame.

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Literature Text

She sits in the corner, her knees a burnt-hot white from how tight she squeezes her legs against her chest. The thumps sound in silence, as even she doesn't hear herself as she rocks into the wall. (Her position may be fetal, but she's no baby to be shaken). Her face shows the past: some scarred into her eyes, and others still dried upon her face from moments ago. Blank thoughts have brought her to a temporary end - a breakdown that not even tears can slip through. She continues her motionful stance, stuck in her routine, incapable of ever escaping it. She's a tamed fire: touch her, and you'll sizzle too. When she smiles, her teeth flash embers because one simple word can set her off - leaving her to flame on her own. Slowly, she burns herself away. Every thump sizzles her out as the tears evaporate off her skin; however, she can never let go, for even her stance burns white-hot.
The emotions never go, they're always there. One match burning with words and we set off into a flame that slowly sizzles out in its environment.

[If you're going to leave a comment telling me it's because I'm a teenager, I'm a girl, and because I'm moody - don't even bother. I've had enough of hearing that sh*t. I am so SICK of being stereotypically judged... At least the anger you've caused me inspired fire metaphor more beautiful than your words.]
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