I’m scared of going crazy
From the moment I take medication in the morning
Until I fall asleep.

The little blue pill
That is supposed to keep me from losing myself
Help me sleep
Let me relax
Make every day bearable
And shorten the endlessness of the night

But it doesn’t work.

The anxiety grows
The depression swells
The ticks that keep me in line
Grow stronger and stronger.

I can’t break free from that repetition
That keeps my life in check


Count the tiles.

Fill in all the circles.

Deep breaths.

Stop the panic attacks.


The colors change
The sizes
The dosage
But the feelings are always the same
And they always will be

I saw a series of paintings
An artist did as he succumbed to schizophrenia
Things that were once beautiful
Became horrifying.

Images once familiar
Became strangers

I know the diseases are different
But I can’t help comparing them

My artwork stays the same
But I can feel my dreams changing
And the nightmares start to seep into real life

I wonder if he noticed how people around him acted
When they realized that he was falling apart

Because I still see the looks of pity in my parents’ eyes
Still remember the week I missed from school
And still remember how everyone treated me
How they continue to treat me
Like I’m made of glass.

Maybe he didn’t take his medication
Because he wanted to embrace the insanity
Be completely at home with who he was.

I’m not that strong.