It always starts out like any other day.
Outside, life moves swiftly
I get into the routine of my day
And in an instant, I hate everything.
I’m mad at you and my friends
And angry at myself and at my parents for making me this way,
Angry at my genetics because it runs in the family.
It’s like beating the walls in a padded cell–forcing out yells
Hitting and throwing objects while the rest of society moves around me
Careful not to disturb the peace in their own lives
Or maybe they have monsters inside their heads, too, and are better at concealing them.
I have always had a flare for the dramatics, a knack for acting out passionately
Yet this is not a performance and I am not acting for my own amusement.
This is a scene cut directly from the character I play,
The kind of character written by some of the greatest authors and playwrites
The kind the audience gets sucked into in all her chaotic glory
The kind of character that men find alluring, interesting, and complicated.
I tell you my life story and you keep buying the drinks
Hoping I’m crazy enough to come home with you.
When I fall into those hysterical moments, those manic moments
I am invincible and charming and in the morning,
I’ll roll over and out of bed
Just as calmly as the whole episode began.