About

There was a time when my existence was reduced to a plastic shoe box and the number 47.

Some days I miss being 47. It's easier when you feel like nothing more than a number There's no stress to be anything more than that. Your existence is reduced to a mere number. No expectations. No responsibilities. No worry. Just 47.

I was 47 before I was a number. It took a hospital bed to name that part of me, and they chocked me up to a two digit number and a pen restriction. But that part of me was there long before the doctors and pills and behavior conditioning.

I think sometimes it's healthy to spiral out of control. Too often we are stuck robotically going through life. Go to work, go home, eat, sleep, repeat. Spiraling breaks that cycle. And although it can be scary, it really requires you to re-evaluate life and be strong. It requires self discipline to pull yourself back out. I'd rather spiral out of control than simply exist in a robotic world.

I definitely have moments where I'm ready to go back. And I think I would have a long time ago if there wasn't so much riding on my fake sanity facade. Nothing makes you miss the simplicity of being a number quite like realizing you aren't meant to every be loved. I think in a parallel universe, I'm still there. A lifer with the lithium drunk opheliacs. Because you know what they say, "there's no coming back from lithium."