Bipolarmuse ♥ I Waited
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
It is suffice to say
You are on my mind each day.
Every song that is played
Spins you in my mind like a screenplay.
I waited
B is in his home town now and I expect that to officially be the end. He doesn’t have a phone number or address for me, nor me for him.
Yet he calls my work periodically leaving his number.
Just knowing that he is calling for me has me frantic and sick. I can’t do it anymore.
I can’t save him… my love will never be enough. This has been an excruciating fact to come to.
I tell the receptionist to just throw away his number and not to allow me to have it.
He is my drug, I may fiend for him and take him back.
However, I ask for the number after one of his calls. She freely gives it after a-lot of pleading.
I call from the work pay phone so he wouldn’t have my cell number.
The phone is ringing…
- Hi babygirl! I miss you so much. -
~ Hi B. How are you. ~
-When you coming back to me baby? -
~ I don’t know if that is going to happen. ~
- Promise me we will be back together again. -
~ I can’t promise that B, but I will try. ~ I lied.
- I love you baby girl. -
~ Me too B. ~
I hang up the phone.
I now have his number and it took all the strength I had to throw it away.
This man is delusional and I just fed into his delusions.
~~~~~
I haven’t heard from him for about a month…
Yet today… he has called again… with a message for me with significant meaning.
- Tell Bipolarmuse to keep the rest of my things. -
I almost threw up right then and there when I heard this.
It was the end.
I didn’t have hardly any of his belongings because he sold them all before he left.
This was a message… not about belongings… but about his plan.
I knew then and there that his death was imminent.
All I could do was wait for the other shoe to drop.
So I waited.
© bipolarmuse 2012
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- Bipolarmuse ♥ The Ex… Pregnant? (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Sweet Smile (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Not On My Watch (bipolarmuse.com)
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Keep your Spark
You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it. ~ Robin Williams
Ahhhh… the spark of madness. All you need is a spark, not a blazing fire.
We all have this spark inside, for some it is stronger. It needs to be cultivated and used in a productive way.
Let your light inside, not only inspire you, but use it to inspire others. Be that beacon in the dark.
Who would I be without this malfunctioning mind?
I don’t want to find out.
I am liking me.
Stay strong my friends and keep your spark… If you feel you have lost it, you haven’t, it just needs rekindled.
♥
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse ♥ Love Me In Perfection
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Love Me In Perfection
These are the moments that I love. Makes all the frustration, anxiety, mental pain, and sadness worth being endured.
It’s quiet… just muffled sounds dance in my ears.
The only light being from the glow of the TV.
Sipping hot tea.
Sitting on the loveseat with B… laying back, just a little… resting against the arm of the sofa.
Legs entwined.
One hand molded perfectly to his… my body melting into him.
The heat of his gaze on my face…
His sweet lips on my face.
- You are my hero, my everything baby girl. -
I don’t speak… I just kiss his lips.
Love oozes from every pore of me. I am alive…. on fire with passion for this man.
I want to save him… from himself.
Why is he so loving and affectionate tonight?
Does it matter?
I hold his gaze…
Indeed, pin-dot pupils in a dark room.
It’s ok B, for tonight.
Be high and love me in perfection.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse ♥ Here is the Ego- continued
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Here is the Ego- continued
B slowly pulls into the drive.
The police tell him to slowly exit the vehicle, and he did.
Where was the gun?? I couldn’t see it in either of his hands…
B certainly is not an idiot as he is now proving. He knew the current law about guns and made sure it was sitting in plain fucking sight within the car.
Busy talking to the police, I call his parents to tell them I am outside. His Dad comes out through the garage and ushers me into the house.
I was in shock at how everything was going down. I felt sick, anxious, scared to death of what was going to happen. A rotten taste in my mouth, vile acids sneaking their way to my throat.
B’s Dad keeps going in and out of the house. I believe he is mediating and prying for information… though I couldn’t be sure of anything. Everyone wanted to know why B was taking a gun to his parents house.
Certainly he had a plan.
“To scare everyone” was the so-called plan. “He would never hurt anyone other than himself”…
Well, I can say I am gleefully happy to have ruined his fun (muahaha)… now he gets to have the police involved. Maybe that will be enough to scare the shit out of him and prevent him from acting up further.
I could only get so lucky!
I finally went outside once things were calm and I found B completely at ease with the cops, discussing a career as an officer of the law, just shootin’ the shit, feeling some sort of camaraderie with them because he was in Loss Prevention.
What the fuck ever.
Everyone was now at ease and giving B a pep-talk. “You have a great life with a beautiful girl”, “Maybe you both should move to Vegas to be near Bipolarmuses kids”, “You can accomplish anything”, “You have everything going for you”…. blah, blah, blah.
I was involved with the pep-talk bullshit…but I was experiencing the whole situation almost in an out of body experience. I wasn’t ‘present’ at all, but observing from a distance, though I was clearly in the center of the mayhem.
The gun… where did the gun go??
Somehow, B had purchased the gun for a few hundred dollars. How? I can only imagine all the creative ways that B comes up with when it comes to getting money. But nope!
Where did he get the money for the gun… from our joint fucking account to be sure.
Now, I am gonna kill him.
The gun needed to go… pronto… in a jiffy…snap snap… NOW.
I then realize why we were there so long. Yet, baffled. Why didn’t the police take him down to mental health and have him held because he was obviously a danger to himself and to others. Why weren’t his parents taking that action? Could I??
Since the gun was legally owned and B had every right to exercise his right to bare arms. It couldn’t be taken by the police, and surely he knows not to trust me with it.
I made plans to leave, move out, be done with this crazy man. I knew it was futile though… he was my smack.
So instead, I went home with B.
When we got home, he hands me a check.
The cost of peace of mind for today… $1000.00
His Dad now owns the gun.
© bipolarmuse 2012
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Random Possibilities
I like to live in a world of random possibilities.~ Bipolarmuse ♥
I am a thinker… as I think many of us with mood disorders are. Nothing is ever as simple as it should be. I have to dive into my mind and find hidden truths. Some people are happy with what is…and while I, at times, enjoy that… I also enjoy what could be and is yet to be revealed.
Tomorrow is surely to be different from today. Of course it has the similarities of yesterday, but it is profoundly different.
I have choices…each to lead to a different ending… only for the ending to be changed again. I like that.
I like to wander in this world without limits… of possibilities… random possibilities.
That is where I live.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse♥ Here is the Ego
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Here Is The Ego
- Come with me to my parents house. -
B is frantic. His forehead is beaded with sweat and his eyes are wild and darting around like a mad man. He is highly agitated. He is angry. He is vengeful.
~ I don’t see how going over there is going to help anything. I think chilling out is the best option right now and then go and talk to them. ~
I am trying desperately to keep him at the house. Nothing feels right. His anger and anxiety have reached a new high and I am very frightened over what is going to happen next.
Apparently he is upset at his parents over something, I think over a vehicle. You see, B has always had nice vehicles paid for by his parents, and while he is currently driving a company SUV, he is not happy about it. But hey, privileges are removed when you act up…and B was great at acting up.
- Either fucking come with me and be by my side as my fiance who supports me… or… -
B is shaking his head in disgust and disbelief that I am refusing to go along.
How do I extinguish this before escalates into something tragic?
I swear I am at my breaking point with this man.
B, his cackle so devious, his eyes WILD, his lips dangerously curved into a wicked smile… he pulls out a nice large gun.
Where the fuck did that come from?! I have taken away guns. We agreed he is never to own one, so where did this come from??
-You won’t go and support me… do you not care and see how unfair this all is? -
~ B, give me the gun. This is no time to have a gun out. ~
- What are you afraid of baby girl? -
He cackles, eyes set on fire and uncontrollably wild.
- Are you afraid I will do this?! -
Everything is in slow motion at this point.
He slowly takes the hand the gun is in and lifts it up toward his face.
I inhale to scream in protest but can’t find words… nor the air needed to fill my lungs.
Everything is so slow. It feels like it is taking an eternity to place that gun in his mouth.
Yet, time stands still for nobody, and he manages to place the gun in the very place he will certainly one day use to end his life.
I stand there… frozen. Finally I find my voice…
~Baby, please don’t do this… it isn’t worth it! I need you so much. What would I be without you?!~
In excruciatingly slow motion, he removes his mouth from around the barrel and brings the gun down to his side.
I am in the midst of chaos… insanity.
- Either you come with me or not, but I am going and I would really like your support. -
B heads out of the apartment and right down to the car.
I race out …chasing him.
I open the passenger door of the car…standing with one leg in and the rest of me out. B is standing just outside the driver door.
I take note of the little kids playing so close by, and the big shiny gun in B’s hand.
~ I will go with you… but let me take the gun upstairs to our apartment. ~
- FUCK THAT. I want them to see what they do to me. -
~ B, please give me the gun and we can go talk to them, or lets stay here. What do you need to prove with that gun anyways! ~
- I love you baby girl. Are you afraid I will do this in front of everyone… -
B calmly places the barrel of the gun in his mouth again, this time he maintains eye contact with me.
I shut my eyes. Seared into my mind is that last image… the gun in his mouth.
I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the “bang”… all the while worried about those poor kids that are now watching… looking terrified.
I open my eyes and scream at the kids to go home.
~ Go home now! ~
Just as I did, B removed the gun from his mouth and jumped into the car.
- Come with me and support me, or don’t. -
I stepped out of the car and chose not to go.
The tires squealed as he maniacally pulled out.
Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!
I must call his parents.
I dial their phone number immediately…
- Hello? -
~ You need to lock up the house or leave! B is on the way over, he is acting crazy…and he is bringing a gun. I am sorry, I tried stopping him. ~
- Thank you for calling to let us know, I am going to call the police. -
I call B over and over but he will not answer his phone. I figured the police would be a deterrent.
I jump in my car and head to his parents house. I beat him there and notice that his parents have completely locked down the house. The police are there.
I watch B’s car slowly pull up.
He gets out and is comically irritated. Donning that devilish smirk, wild eyes, cackling. Here is the ego.
© bipolarmuse 2012
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- Bipolarmuse ♥ My Poison (bipolarmuse.com)
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My Inspiration
My inspiration for writing I held You For a Moment.
~~~
I was looking through old pictures, trying to find some pics of B, and I sadly reminded myself that I have only a few. None of us together. Where they have all gone is beyond me. I didn’t get any pictures back from his collage at his funeral but I am certain I still had “some”.
They are completely gone.
The pictures I did find stopped me in my tracks.
I found his viewing/funeral pictures.
Yes, I took pictures of him in his casket.
I can remember thinking (at his viewing) that he looked so good. You have to remember that I believe I saw B at his worst when alive… so that doesn’t help with my observation.
I did hold him a moment… in a picture… in my hands.
I stared at the picture and realized just how horrible he did look… how different than what I remember. I thought he was so beautiful at his services.
And now…
Well now, I just want some real pictures.
♥
I Held You For A Moment
I held you for a moment,
Breath paused, hands trembling.
You feel so nice in my hands.
I am in awe, fascinated.
Your skin, I want to touch badly
I whisper for just “The chance”.
I held you for a moment
Time ended, moments stopped.
I feel the depths of your dreams.
You pull at me, pull me under…
Your eyes held me, entranced.
As I lay you in the dusty box of broken dreams.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse ♥ Sweet Smile
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Sweet smile
It is serious this time. No going back.
I packed B and the items he can fit on an airplane into the car and we drive to the airport. He is talking, mumbling something, but all I can hear is the muffled sounds in my head. Maybe my heartbeat? Each breath taken in?
The goodbye was short with a kiss on the cheek. I didn’t even bother with watching him walk away, I just pulled away from the curb at the drop off area and headed towards work.
That was it, it was over.
He had nothing to come back for because he sold all of his belongings for pills and getting his hands on a gun. Thank God he didn’t have enough money for the gun… but the pills, yes he got his fix.
~~~
The end was torture. He spent every single day, all day, in bed crying.
My kids thought he was “sick” all the time and I just agreed.
Yes, he was sick.
Did I mention I was glad he couldn’t get a gun? Without the gun, I wasn’t so afraid of his final exit. I had come to know him enough that I believed he would certainly be leaving this world with a bang.
- Don’t worry baby girl. You won’t come home and find me dead. I would drive off in your car, pull over somewhere, and shoot myself.-
Of course my eyes seared into him. I didn’t have the fight in me any longer.
~Can you do it outside of my car? I kind of need it and you will leave a bloody mess.~
He cackles.
-I looked into life insurance to leave for you. Doesn’t cover suicide.-
I stop flipping through my magazine.
~Yea… I figured as much. You would have to get crafty and make it look accidental. Somehow that would unravel.~
We stare at each other for a minute.
He has a sweet smile at times. When he is just raw and sincere.
This is the smile I see as I am driving away.
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
© bipolarmuse 2012
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Check out– i’ve turned my face to the wall
My bestie Sean, who writes alltheavenueslookugly, has started a new blog. His original blog (alltheavenueslookugly) is more of a journal that takes us on a ride in his mind with mental disorders and really shows us the ugly side of what these disorders can do to you. His writing is very raw and intense… and is not sugar coated in the least.
His new blog is i’ve turned my face to the wall. I stole this excerpt from his journal describing this new blog:
**the new blog is the book i have been writing on for quite a while.
i’ve turned my face to the wall
be warned: this is not necessarily in the form it will be published in, and i am waiting on making edits and such until later. i thought it might be kind of fun to see it from an earlier start to where it will eventually become. i won’t be posting the complete book on there, as then there would really be no reason to read it when it is published. but there will be quite a bit. there will also be some other goodies coming later, including other works, links to some amazing writers, and other things.
so if you like it, please follow it, share it with your friends, etc.** Pimp it out my friends!
This book is not a memoir but some pieces are true and some are fiction. Awesome right?? I think so but I am constantly wondering what parts are real… and who is Molly?? I wanna know!! Since he and I are friends, I could ask, but I also want the excitement of just “experiencing” the book. What I also like is that the page lengths vary… some are very short, more poetic…while others dive into the storyline.
Enough of me telling you about it… check it out. His writing is intense and raw and his style makes it so easy and fluid to read. Don’t be surprised if you are like me and saying, “Sean… now is this part truth or fiction”?? I love it.
i’ve turned my face to the wall
Show Me
Don’t give me the world,
It is not for me to have.
Show me its glory,
From your backyard instead.
Don’t give forever,
For it isn’t to be had.
Stop the hands of time,
Show me timeless instead.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse ♥ Playboy
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Playboy
I slide my key into the keyhole and walk through the door of the apartment.
I notice instantly that the apartment is clean, smelling of a lovely burning candle, and that there is absolutely zero clutter. B must be in his “spring” cleaning mode. I have seen this a time or two before… within the last month or so.
I almost, just almost, start to think he is someone a little OCD”ish” about cleanliness. Then it hits me! He is like this from time to time, not all the time… so obviously OCD is out of the question. Clearly he has some issues upstairs… but figuring out the issues is not my thing… dealing with them is.
I am quite pleased that I don’t have to come home from work and do anything other than figure out dinner. I am smiling as I walk into our immaculate bedroom, fully equipped with 3 mattresses and mirrors on the ceiling, and I set down my purse.
B is in the shower, CD player blasting out Offspring.
Uh-Oh. Serious, Uh-Oh. Offspring is a sure fire indicator of a super smug, arrogant, and amped up B.
LOOOOVELYYYYYY.
I start taking notice of my environment because clearly I am missing something. B + Offspring = trouble. Don’t ask me why or how I know this, it just seems to be the way that it is.
I go back into the living room.
How the fuck could I miss what I am seeing?!
B has changed the background of the fish tank… to PLAYBOY magazine pages. Seriously. The entire fish tank is lined with naked women.
My cheeks start to become hot and flushed. Not because of the naked women but because of the fucking point.
Not only was the fish tank used as a platform for playboy playmates, but so was the glass coffee table. Instead of seeing crystalline, shiny, clean glass… Naked women are staring at me from underneath where they have been meticulously taped in place. FABULOUS! We can set our drinks down without ruining the beautiful pages of Playboy. (Sarcasm, sarcasm, sarcasm!)
Wow. B has surely out done himself this time. Taking it to new heights daily! That should be his fucking motto.
I go into our closet to grab clothes to change into because there’s going to be a fight tonight, and am not stunned one bit to see the top of the closet wall completely LINED with all of the playboy centerfolds, ya know, the bitches that fold out. Yes, those ones.
B didn’t even discriminate. We have women with racing strips, triangles, bare as bare can get, 80′s bush, striped like Vanilla Ice‘s eyebrow…you name it, I am looking at it.
The shower turns off and I hear the bathroom door open.
Then… the infamous cackle! Obviously he is aware that I am home and that I am undoubtedly finding his lovely choice of background paper.
You would think that I would just start ripping the shit off of everything but, oh no, I want to drag this fight out.
Is something wrong with me?!
Yep, and that something is B.
I am afraid that if he wants to look at Playboy pinups at every glance, then he needs to compromise and allow me the right to Playgirl ganders.
Which will he enjoy least? A compromise, or the fight. I am going to say the compromise. (wink, wink)
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
© bipolarmuse 2012
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Before The End
Before The End
In uncomfortable moments of discontent…
Silence prevails, as it is meant.
A Tame tongue and darting eyes…
Keeps truth from parting lips. Rumors hide.
~
When is sorrow, profound, meant to be?
And countless tears turn into a sea?
When is a mountain of courage needed by all?
Before the end. The crumble and the fall.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse ♥ ~Haunted~
HAUNTED
Dark and chilled.
Shivers travel my spine.
Come on and take a ride…
With me through my world.
~~~… (“I love you baby girl”)…~~~
Is that you??
Baby boy, was that you I heard?
Please come, I’d like you to learn,
This void within my world.
~~~… (“Ten times more baby girl”)…~~~
Sad and broken.
In my heart, misery exists.
Your smell on my skin. Taste on my lips.
Are you in my world?
~~~… (“I love you more baby girl”)…~~~
Where are you?
You’ve forgotten. Remember the promise?
The shivers, chills, your breath on my back… HAUNTED.
Please come to my world.
~~~… (“I miss you baby girl”)…~~~
I WANT IT!
Screaming madly in my head…
Have I gone mad instead?
I WANT IT…
to be HAUNTED.
Like you promised…
HAUNTED.
Welcome to my world…
~~~… (“Hugs and kisses baby girl”)…~~~
© bipolarmuse 7.24.2002
**This poem was written nearly two month to the day after the suicide of my ex. It was no surprise that he killed himself, he talked about it all the time. I made him promise to haunt me if he did die, and I can honestly say I feel like I was haunted for quite some time.
Every passage ~~~…(“like this”)…~~~ was something I found written in my books, photo albums, or on slips of paper hiding in places for me to find. They were truly his words that I found within the first year after his death. I incorporated his verbal “hauntings” into this poem that was written nearly 10 years ago. Just something I wanted to share. ♥ **
Bipolarmuse ♥ I NEED HELP
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Grim Reaper (advertisement) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I NEED HELP
Yea, I am cool, calm, and collected.
Once B is done reacting the way that he normally does (being pissed off at everyone other than himself). Things settle down into a normal,yet new routine.
The ex-girlfriend is pregnant. B had found out about it when he and I had been dating about a month…. or so he says. And then decided not to tell me. In fact, I found out the wonderful news from his Uncle when the Ex-rirlfriend was approximately 4-5 months pregnant.
Supposedly B didn’t tell me right away because he was waiting to see if she was going to change her mind about keeping the baby. (She told him she was keeping it, yet somehow he felt she would change her mind). Classic B style. I am starting to realize I can’t trust a word that B says and to take everything with a grain of salt, EVERYTHING.
Makes for a GREAT relationship. (Can you hear the sarcasm?? I certainly hope so).
We had our blowout fight… Bipolarmuse screams and cries, and manages to hit B a couple times… B manages to reflect my hits and cackle while I cry. Nothing out of the norm.
He seems a bit “down” lately, but he had quite a-lot to be upset about.
Fuck his down moods and the pills he has in his cabinet that he only takes on rare occasions. I’ve had to stop taking baths for fear of drowning myself.
In fact, all of my thoughts revolve around death… B’s, my own… by his hand, by my hand.
I am spiraling down, out of control… and it is finally slapping me in the face. I am finally seeing, for the first time, the dire state I am in.
My attention is in the hands of the grim reaper.
I NEED HELP.
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
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Precarious ~ Haiku
Have you met my soul?
She’s a precarious thing.
Your silence proves it.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse ♥ The Ex… Pregnant?
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
The Ex… Pregnant?
It is a busy fucking night at work… got to get my hustle on to make that cash. That is what I love about being a food server, you can hustle for more tables, hustle the guests (in a nice way of course), hustle the bartenders, and it all ends up as more money in my pocket. Can’t hate a girl for trying to make a living.
B is off tonight, of course. It is the weekend and somehow he managed to be off on a Saturday night… I am sure he planned it that way, fully knowing that I would be busy working.I can never take weekends off if I plan on making any decent money.
I have talked to B a couple times from work and nothing seems out of the ordinary. He is his arrogant, cocky self.
The cousins Dad likes to come in and have dinner and drinks up at the bar every now and then… and since I am dating his nephew, I have gotten to know him a bit. I notice he is here and I stop by for a quick hello.
~How’s it going this week? You’re lookin’ good.~
- No, young lady, YOU are lookin’ good. – wink wink.
- I just have to say that it’s really cool how you’re handling the ex-girlfriend thing.-
The ex-girlfriend thing. Hmmm. Well, B has an ex-girlfriend whose name pops up from time to time, but nothing about her stands out other than they were together since high school. I’ve seen pics of her and she is pretty, but whatever, I’m not worried about anything.
~Yea, not a big deal. She seems like a cool girl.~
- Well, I mean, with her being pregnant and everything… I would say your taking it pretty fucking good.-
What the fuck did he just say?? The room begins to spin and I am literally seeing stars. I can barely talk but manage.
~Yea, I’m cool like that.~ wink.
I start walking to a side wall that has a phone on the opposite side. I quickly tuck behind the wall and grab the phone.
I feel like I can barely walk, stand, move, BREATHE.
Did I fucking hear him right?? B’s ex is pregnant? How far along is she? Did he cheat on me and get her pregnant? Has she been pregnant all along and he has kept it from me?
I dial B’s number.
Here we go… just one more fuckin’ thing to add to the already mountain of shit that we have for a relationship. We JUST got back together from a “little” break. Can anything go “right”? Fuck no. Not with B.
-Hi baby girl, is work slow or what?-
~Your ex is fucking pregnant?~
- What THE FUCK man…- CLICK.
He fuckin’ hung up on me. SERIOUSLY?!
Well, I got my answer… the ex is definitely pregnant.
Now I have to decide… does B stay or go?
© bipolarmuse 2012
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
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- Bipolarmuse ♥ Not With A 10 Foot Pole (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ My Poison (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ – The Gun (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Can you say Psycho?! (bipolarmuse.com)
Always Keep Trying
I LOVE this quote. Courage comes in all different forms and I believe that even when we feel defeated… when we make the decision to try again tomorrow… it takes a great amount of courage to do so.
It is not easy to feel life beat you down every single day…to feel like every effort is made with pain, made in vain. But to make the decision to move forward and to try again day after day. That is true courage.
I know for myself, the silent roar of courage made behind the veil of tears have been my most courageous moments. Those have been the moments that took the most strength and willpower to move forward and not give up.
Don’t feel that you are weak… every single day you make the effort to get up… to go about your day no matter how difficult it can be… and every single day, whether it ends in tears or starts with tears… you resolve to keep trying.
That is strength and that is courage. I applaud you.
My friends, you are not alone. Your struggles are never in vain… please know that you have purpose. ♥
Bipolarmuse ♥ Can you say Psycho?!
Can you say Psycho?!
I am beginning to truly realize what I have gotten myself into. Aside from his desire to die, I am learning quick that B is more than I bargained for…
B is a man-whore. His phone is constantly ringing, he is always silencing his phone, and then he listens to the messages from what he thinks is a safe distance from me hearing. WRONG. And what I hear is NON-STOP girl-whores asking him to come over… “I don’t care if you have a girlfriend now”, “lets hang out like old times”. BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. This shit will either stop, or I will become crazy.
Guess which comes first.
So I do what any “normal” girlfriend would do and figure out the code to get into his voice-mail, and I listen to his messages. That’s right. I have become that girl.
The first try was easy, got it right away. His favorite combo of numbers entered twice. (See ladies, it does pay off to know your mans favorite numbers). I don’t even feel ashamed that I check his messages and then leave them on his phone so that later, when he checks them, they are still there yet not listed as “new messages”. I am flaunting my new possessed skill in his face.
Then the number changes. He finally got smart. Not smart enough though because it takes me all of 1 minute to realize he used his sons birthday. So once again I am back in the business of having access to all of his voice-mail messages.
He changes the code several times and I manage to figure out EACH new code. I am a proud crazy woman.
What I hear is highly disturbing and I get a thrill out of it. I have become the crazy ass girlfriend/fiance. Ya know, the one who looks through phone records, sneaks into his messages, calls the girl-whores to tell them that they better back the fuck off because I am not opposed to slicing fake titties off of a bitch. Yes, I said that.
Who have I become??? Can you say Psycho?! This is not me at all. I have become crazy and completely obsessed with B and his shenanigans. Instead of using it as an excuse to leave the relationship, I use it as bait to get into bigger fights. Bigger fights = a bigger make up. The more crazy I get, the happier B seems to be. The more “destined” we are for each other. (Insert sarcasm for that last sentence).
One specific woman that B works with is relentless and I believe she is getting off on all of this crazy attention. So what does she do?? She calls B more often, leaving messages that would send any girlfriend (especially the crazy kind) into a fucking frenzy.
I have had it with her. I am nuts… I don’t even recognize myself anymore as I go stomping into his employment and to this lady-whores department. She is lucky that a glass counter separates us. I lean in close so she can hear me…
~If you do not leave my Fiance the fuck alone, I am going to come in here and put that lovely little face of yours through the fucking glass counter. (SMILE)~
She is completely silent and backed away as far as she can get from me.
Mission accomplished. The bitch never called again.
The next time I happened to see her was at B’s funeral. Good girl for doing what you were told.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000/2001. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Bipolarmuse ♥ – The Gun
The Gun
Now for the easy part of this whole cluster fuck. I am disposing of the huge ass gun that B supposedly “borrowed” from a friend. Frankly, I don’t give a damn where he got it, but I am getting rid of it.
This thing is so huge and terrifying to me…so terrifying that I just see it as gigantic and deadly.
B is still in bed resting from his night of pill popping/suicidal ideation, but he knows what I am doing so he decides to get up.
I am standing next to the island that separates the kitchen from the living room…staring hypnotically at the gun. What the fuck do I do with it?!
Perfect solution… I will take it to my Aunt, she will know what we should do.
B is all of a sudden standing behind me urging me to keep the gun because it is a “friends”.
I call BULLSHIT. Serious bullshit. And I push him forcefully back.
For all I know, he could have stolen the gun from a friend of his or “bought” it from a friend. In any case, I DON’T CARE.
~ B, you know how I feel about guns… not to mention that I can’t trust you to refrain from shooting me in the back of the head for shits and giggles and then shooting yourself.~
Off goes the cackle… – You are crazy baby girl, that is why we are perfect for each other.-
Yeah, no way would I allow that gun to remain in his hands, nor in mine.
I wrap the gun in a towel… with B protesting every step of the way. His cackle becomes more and more nervous… then nearly stops all together.
I grab a cleaning bucket from the laundry room and place the nicely- towel- wrapped- gun into the bucket, along with the extra hollow point bullets…covering it with another towel.
B is not very happy at the moment… but do I care? HELL NO. He has tortured me so many times with this type of bullshit.
- What the fuck man? You can’t just get rid of it!-
I laugh out loud… B knows me by now and I just give him “the look” to shut his face.
He cackles… that insidious sound echos in my bones. He then retreats back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him, he doesn’t have much fight in him today. Thank God. I fear with each fight that I get more violent with him.
~~~~~~~~~
I drive to my Aunts house who happens to live around the corner.
I nervously get out of the car and go inside to chit chat with her. She knows instantly that something is not right…she has a knack for that when it comes to me. She knows B and has personally “chest bumped” him with her entire 110lbs, and yelled at him… threatening him to take care of me and straighten out his act. She knows he is bad news, yet supports my decisions.
She can read me so well…
-What’s going on?? I can tell something’s up.-
I lead her out to the car and open my trunk.
I gently remove the towel and expose the gun to show her.
- OH MY GOD baby girl (obviously an overused nickname for me). Where did you get that??!!- Her voice is beyond frantic.
~ I had the wonderful privilege last night of thinking that B killed himself and found this gun just chillin on the counter in our apartment, so I took it and I want to get rid of it. ~
Aunt Deb always has the perfect solution.
We jump in my car and drive to the police station. I walk in with the bucket and hand it to an officer.
I explained that my Aunt and I “found” this gun and the bullets in the gutter near her house. (Yes, lame excuse I know, but I was scared and in shock over how to handle this).
The officer pulled it out, along with the bullets.
- You found THIS gun and hollow point bullets in the gutter?-
~ Yes officer, we did, and we don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands so we brought it here. God forbid if a kid had found it.~
I felt guilty lying to the police, but the gun had to fucking go.
This is the second gun I have taken from B.
Bipolarmuse/2….. B/zeroooooo.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
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- Bipolarmuse ♥ Not With A 10 Foot Pole (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Barrel in your mouth. (bipolarmuse.com)
Charmed
Charmed
Firefly utopian dreams.
Dandelion wishes…
Riding on pixie wings.
~
Enchanted lands…
Offering magical secrets,
In mother natures hands.
~
Riding on dreamy rainbows…
Pure in light, take flight…
Unseen wings travel to lands unknown.
~
Whispers hushed…gently carried.
Charmed only for those,
Who are awake and ready.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse ♥ He is “OUT”
He is “OUT”
Unbelievable.
B must be out of his favorite painkiller and has inevitably decided to take it out on me. Happens every single fucking time.
When he is not riding the amazing feeling of Vicodin, he becomes the hugest asshole on the face of the planet… especially when he is COMPLETELY out.
What the hell did I just walk into?
Every single photo of us together has been taken down from the wall and the frames are stacked up empty.
Are we having a fight I am totally, inexplicably unaware of?
B is in a frenzy. He is edgy, fidgety, flighty, and in the throes of a clammy cold sweat. Oh yea, he is detoxing BIG time. Poor B… no more pills for you. (SMILE).
~Where the fuck are our pictures B?~
The fucking cackle… it is his trademark.
His eyes are darting to the spare bedroom. His smile wicked. His eyes wild. His face is pitiful. He was in his haughty, smug element…which was becoming the new “norm”.
I glance into the spare room, and to my fucking amazement he has torn every single framed picture of us together into tiny little pieces. Not large rips that could be repaired, but like fucking confetti.
~Why the fuck did you rip up all of our pictures?!~
B is frantically getting his shit together. He puts on his shoes… grabs his wallet and car keys… and throws on his leather jacket.
~Uhhhh, where do you think your going? And what about our fucking pictures?!~
- Baby girl, we have more pictures, and it isn’t your business where I am going.-
The cackle, the wild eyes, his blatant rude and cruel mood. I am fed up and seeing red.
I begin crying hysterically.
He decided to rip up our pictures and then give ME this attitude like I have done something wrong.
All that is wrong is that he has an addiction to pills and he is apparently OUT of them. Who better to take it out on than me… right?
My makeup is running into my eyes, tears are running off of my face, snot is streaming down my nose, and my anger has reached an all new high.
I block B from the door because I KNOW where he is going… he is going to go find pills.
He is trying to push by me but I am relentlessly pushing back, hitting him in the chest with my fists, trying to rip his jacket off his fucking body.
~Don’t you love me?! If you loved me you would fuckin try to get better!! You are so fucking cruel! ~
I snatch his key and chuck them across the room.
Now the cackle turns into the “you stepped over the line” smirk and humph sound he loves, second only to the cackle.
His eyes tell me that I better fucking stop. I have crossed the line.
My mascara is running down my eyes and face…my eyes feel so puffy that I can barely see. I am crying to the point that I cannot breath. My fists hurt from hitting him. Our fucking pictures are ripped into smithereens.
What matters to this asshole? The pills.
He retrieves his keys, pushes me aside and holds me at the entryway hall with one arm while opening the front door with the other.
I watch him with the stare of death and lost hope.
He closes the door behind him.
He is “out”.
An hour later he is back… loving, sweet, cuddly, and affectionate.
And his pupils are the size of a pin dot… looks like he found what he was looking for.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
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Bipolarmuse ♥ My Poison
My Poison
Damn! I can’t get in touch with B.
This morning was dreadful…there was something in his eyes that didn’t sit well with me. He is highly agitated, withdrawn, not making eye contact, and acting “off” to say the least.
No matter his mood, I have to work, even if my gut instinct is to call out to “watch” him.
I have talked to him only once since getting to work and he is beyond cocky and arrogant… not to mention that his tone of voice lacks love and compassion.
My day progresses and I have not recieved any calls from him. FUCK. Every time I try to call him, his phone goes directly to voice-mail. What should I do?? I can tell in my gut, the rancid taste of anxiety in my throat, that something is not right.
I am now freaking the fuck out.
I still have another hour of work and I simply cannot leave.
I call the roommate of B’s sister since she lives in the same apartment complex, and I ask her to please check to see if his car is there, and if so, to please go knock on the door to make sure he is ok.
Everyday it feels like I am trying to keep this wild, crazy man alive. It is so taxing on me that I literally feel sick daily. I have lost a tremendous amount of weight… from 110lbs to 86lbs which is absolutely frightening. I eat, but I get sick from stress and cannot hold food in. This is my life with B… constant stress and chaos.
She checks on him and calls me back.
- His car is there but he is not answering the door.-
Panic begins to set in… not simple anxiety, but panic. The panic that makes me sick and believe that I am going to pass out or die.
Work is over and I RACE home. I am so sick to my stomach that I contemplate pulling over to puke out all my nerves.
What am I going to find when I get home?? B overdosed?? Maybe he got his hands on a new gun (I have already gotten rid of the one he owned).
Oh my God, please don’t let me find him with his head blown off, blood all over the place.
Please be alive.
I walk through the door of our apartment… I am shaking uncontrollably at this point and convinced that he has finally succeeded at killing himself.
The apartment is dark and I fear turning on the lights. What is the fucking light going to reveal to me?
I contemplate calling the police.
Instead, I turn on the light and glance around the room. He isn’t in here, but the bedroom door is closed. That is where he is, probably dead.
I walk past the kitchen and noticed he had written on a piece of paper hanging on the wall that says, “I’m sorry. I love you all”.
My trembling increases and I am on the verge of throwing up. Then I notice a huge ass gun sitting on the island that divides the kitchen from the living area. I am somewhat relieved because if the gun is here, then obviously he didn’t use it.
Now I have to worry about an overdose.
I grab the doorknob to our bedroom and hold my breath. I peek inside and it is pitch black. No light is shining whatsoever. Darkness envelopes me.
I flip on the light and B is laying in bed. I can see his face and I take note of the puffiness under his eyes. He was probably crying all day… I have seen it happen before.
I go to him and see the rise and fall of his chest. Fuck yes! He is still alive!! All my fucking emotions come out and I run to the bathroom and puke up any ounce of food left in my stomach and then dry heaved for a hot minute.
I then wake B up. It is a bit difficult for him to come out of his sleep and he is not very alert. He definitely was high on something. He gets high on anything… muscle relaxers, pain pills, alcohol combined with any downer he can get his hands on. You name it, he will get high on it.
I start to cry, uncontrollable sobs. The type that takes the breath from your chest.
- I love you baby girl, I couldn’t do it. -
I punch him in the chest.
Sobbing ~ If you ever do that to me again B, you better be dead, or I will kill you myself. And by the way, that gun will not be here tomorrow. I am fucking disposing of it. ~
I punch him one more time for good measure and then I hear the cackle.
Fuckin’ B and his cackle will be the death of me.
My poison.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
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- Bipolarmuse ♥ Barrel in your mouth. (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ – I heard Yes (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ What do you want from me?? (bipolarmuse.com)
This is my life through poetry, quotes, and my journal. The intense ride of my ups and downs of life ...and the relentless mood disorders I suffer from.
