bipolar schiZoaffective disorder

Fear is… here.

Fear is… being stalked by them, for hours, days, years. This is fear and it is vividly and voraciously alive.

Fear is… being aware they’re here now, distant - yet so close. Less perturbed, I feel darkly disturbed.

Fear is… the pernicious poison permeating my peace, a demonic diatribe that will never cease.

I do not fear that you hear nothing, but I fear that I do. I fear that I do.

I do not fear that you believe this cabal of condemning chimera to be convoluted conjurings of my own cognition, though your disbelief only adds despair.

These frightful figments of my perception assuredly breathe just as you and I. They breathe, and I fear that breath.

Tumultuous torment tears at me, rupturing the temperament of soul within. Time after time these rapacious revenants rage malevolently to malign and mark me. It is a battle I cannot win.

I do not fear that to you they are a phantom fallacy, though I fear that to me they are an undeniable truth. For these heinous hellions exist, no matter that you don’t hear them, or that I cannot see them.

They are here, they live.
Out of sight, beyond these walls, just –
beyond
these
walls.

They listen to my every waking and sleeping hour, and scald me to the bone with their sickening scorn, the sanctity of self now made sordid, soiled. And I fear, oh how I fear this. There is no circumvention, no solace or sanctuary.

I am alone. Hunted, yet again.

My pain is… beyond words.

I want no one to feel fear as I feel fear. I want to fade away, to nothing, to just not be here, so fear can fade away with me.
Fade
away
with
me.

I am condemned. I am cursed.

I hate this, oh I just hate it. I want to scream, to roar, to fall in a rage.

I am silent.

Haunted.

But. For should there not now always be a but?

Fear is… here. Here to threaten my future and my now; but then, have I not been here so many times prior? Then their presence must not push me towards that precipice of the abominable abyss.

I’ve been crucified before, but was I not resurrected? My life is not theirs to take.

Fear… hear me, you - I forsake.

No, no, I will not fear such fear arising, I will not. For my words so spoken are my sword and my shield - they mark you, you who prey upon me so cowardly from the shadows.

Though I tremble, I stand tall. Though I fear, I will not fall.

As written:

The Devil whispered in my ear: “You’re not strong enough to withstand the storm.”

“I am the storm.”