I’m here. Can’t you see me?

When I’m in a group of people it bothers me that those in the group talk to each other, eye contact and all, but I’m never looked at in the eye. What? Am I invisible? You don’t even make me feel like you can see me. I’m not invited to join the conversation. So why am I here?

A day out

Spent today at my sister’s house. We had a barbecue. She has a husband and a house. A backyard with a forest beyond. She has trees. Rabbits in the yard and deer visit her backyard. A bird’s nest under her deck. A lovely neighborhood. I’m jealous, yet she worked hard all her life and earned what she has. She doesn’t have long to live and when she’s gone my family is gone. I’ll never know what’s become of my other sister’s children. Where they’re at, if they marry or have children. I burned my bridges behind me.



Is it wrong to think of death as something to look forward to? Death is nothingness. I feel I’ve lived my life and there’s no life left in me. What more is left to persuade me to continue on this path? I’m already dead but my body won’t cooperate. These are the thoughts of a woman with bipolar disorder.

When I was young

When I was young I was alone. I wanted the gift of bilocation. One to wrap it’s arm around me as I cried.

Where are you when I need you

There’s no one here. I’m alone now and I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m looking for some semblance of a life. Where do I go to find one? Can I find one in a box of Cracker Jacks?