Describing the days when the world only swirls around you.
Bipolar Blur – a Poem
NOTE: Watch the Bipolar Blur poem as a music video below.
Blurred days slip by, I watch, I grieve
A glimpse of here and there
I rise from bed, act strong, deceive
I go I know not where
Surroundings swirl in shaded grays
Images stay unclear
Red X’s mark off wasted days
The sole proof time was here
Most things get done, the job, the meals
No mem’ries stake their hold
The clock spins fast, no moment heals
While inside icy cold
It matters not, asleep, awake
The numbness won’t subside
Robotic parts disguise the quake
Resistant to the tide
No one observes this man of ice
The me that isn’t me
The lie is sold and bought full price
Emptiness added free
Frozen beneath the darkened floor
Faint glimpses fail to glow
The world goes on no change in score
The master leads the show
Won’t someone see, portray the sleuth
Pull this dead body clear
Ignore the scene, expose the truth
Reveal that lies are near
I long for peace, for clarity
Dream colors in all hues
Real feelings felt, true reverie
Blue skies, majestic views
Yet for today, the blur holds sway
The resolution low
Bipolar laughs, torments its prey
No warming winds will blow
- Written December 22, 2019
- Bipolar Blur poem by Scott Ninneman
As I do around this time every year, I’ve been paging through my journals lately. With 36 years to choose from, there’s quite a lot to read.
Revisiting the past can be a scary thing, and maybe that’s why I only do it once a year. This year, I’m stable and keeping depression at bay, but reading my words reminds me where I’ve been — where I will probably be again.
When you have bipolar disorder, sometimes the world is a blur around you. From the outside, you appear to be functioning. The world may even think you’re participating, but inside you know you’re only watching, and what you see is unclear.
That’s where the lines for the bipolar blur poem come from.
This poem doesn’t reflect where I am today but where I’ve been before. It reminds me the darkest nights can feel endless, but something good is on the other side.
If you relate to the words above, please hold on. Tomorrow might be the day the clouds part and you see the sun anew.
This poem first appeared on Medium.