Poetry From My Past.

Time heals all wounds…

It’s what you do with that time.

If the wound is not addressed properly,

The wound becomes infected.

Once the wound is now infected,

More care is needed, and again,

If it is not addressed properly,

the infection spreads throughout.

The infection becomes a disease.

Once it’s a disease, there’s nothing

Left to heal.

Even if you do heal, you’re never who you were before.

Neither the offender or the offended. All there is, is a band aid, which eventually gets intentionally or unintentionally ripped off, and the wound, now a scab, just gets picked at until it’s a scar.

Scars are forever.

It’s easy to forgive.

It’s harder to mean it.

It’s impossible to forget.

Even harder to move on.

Published by capricious.capo

I am diagnosed as Bipolar 1. I am an advocate for mental health awareness and have helped fundraise towards nonprofit organizations like NAMI. I write about my own personal struggles and success stories to help end a national stigma that hurts and alienates those who battle mental illness. Beyond fighting for mental health awareness, I am tech nerd, hair enthusiast, film buff and music lover. I love my family and support system with all my heart. I have green hair and tattoos because I want to. I’ve always stood out in one way or another. I studied photography and received an associates degree. I have my high school AP literature teacher to thank for inspiring me to pursue journalism, and for writing me a heartfelt letter of recommendation that I still have as a reminder. High school was a decade ago, but in times like these, Publishing an opinionated, personal and maybe controversial blog about living with a mood disorder seemed like a good enough start.

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