When I think of how people see me—

I’m a way too serious person,

Always looking for the profoundness in life.

In mania, I’m in overkill,

In depression, I’m way to wounded to engage.

But that is how THEY see me.

HOWEVER, what is it that they think I want?

I am a serious person,

I am a seeker of truth and profoundness,

In mania, I’m obsessive in whatever I do,

    Be it communicating,

    Be it understanding something that has vexed me,

    Be it loving another person.

In depression,

How do THEY know it is not just a momentary lapse,

    Of feeling lonely, abandoned, afraid?

How do THEY know it is not something inside of me,

    But something outside of my control that worries me?


My brain is not defective,

It just thinks circles around you.

For every moment you think of one argument,

I’ve explored it, and counter argued against it.

My life is not chaotic,

It’s just lived more “lives” than you.

And you who do not know me,

Could not see the humor in the previous line.

You judge the wrinkles in my forehead as frowns,

But they're lines of thought,

With countless rivers of truth seeking over my years.

You judge my fleeting happiness

As some instability…

Are you sure I just didn’t excavate something in you,

That I:

         No longer have to fear,

         No longer have to distrust,

         Simply, no longer have to worry over.

When people like you judge me,

    Do you realize how hard it is to relax around you!

    You who see me as defective to begin with.

NO!  I’m not abnormal!

I’m just thinking circles around you.

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