Things were at a certain point
terribly dichotomous,
once and for everything-
a trouble that could not be named.

It was either I was fine-
or completely succumbed into insanity.
It was either I was laughing one minute-
and a wrecking mess the next.

To all appearances-
the professionals called it
manic depression or
bipolarity.
But I just thought of myself
as a crazy yet delusional
little girl,
from my own awful perception.

From my own, from time to time-
realistic or pessimistic perception.
I couldn't differ from both notions-
because reality almost seemed
exactly like the expectations
of the worst things you'd ever see.

Reality surfaced the periphery
of this acrimony, supposedly.

-a.l.