Panic. I always did when you rattled the mirror, punching a hole in the wall, listening to nothing I say at all. Your nickname Bipolar, you live up to well enough. It’s just you. It’s who you are. No one would believe your sandy blonde hair and deep oval blue eyes could seethe, shaking your fists to music so loud you couldn’t hear the meaningless lyrics. I screamed over your thoughts. Can you hear me now?

(© 2022 AC)

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