I Fear the Swing but Yet I Return


Back and forth I go,

Swinging to and fro,

As the world spins below,

For a reason I do not know.

Pumping my legs and gaining height.

Thinking that the spinning would stop and hoping that it might.

The higher I swing, the more enter my line of sight.

My head cringes though, and the pain inside from the pressure feels tight.

Everything begins to get bright.

Brighter and brighter everything gets.

But I continue swinging, and viewing sunsets.

Serenity, fill my body, and my mind forgets.

Forgets where I am, causing me to fret.

Pumping my legs relaxes the uneasiness.

So I continue doing so, worrying less.

My attention is simultaneously drawn to viewing the birds, trees and grass as though they had a surprise to harness.

I don’t know why I do it, and I lack the comprehension to take a guess.

Swinging messes with me.

Making me sick, nauseous and dizzy.

At the same time it provides serenity,

And aids in my goal of feeling normal and free.

Free of pain and free of hitting my head, causing tragedy.

Free of the world I observe spinning and blurry.

Pumping my legs faster, I push out those thoughts in a hurry.

Getting rid of the thoughts, and getting rid of the flurry.

And then I start to smile, as I feel the breeze.

Brushing my skin like a tease,

As I begin to focus on newly located daisies.

When I am momentarily disrupted by pollen, causing a sneeze.

Faster the world begins to twirl.

Stomach arching, upset and wanting to hurl.

Pressure builds on the backs of my eyes, white as pearl.

All of my surrounds are now starting to swirl.

Swirl into one.

Then I let go of the swing by unattaching my hands, starting with thumb.

Causing myself to fall to earth, and to wish it was foam.

It isn’t though, and the flesh of my knees gets cut by the stone.

Stumbling back to my feet.

I start to feel the overwhelming heat.

Dazed and confused I use objects to walk, I cheat.

I do not make it far before I fall to the ground to take a seat.

I sit there in a daze,

In a mental fog and haze.

For all I know it could have been minutes, hours or even days.

Hoping that this experience was only a phase.

I eventually get back to normal though.

And every time I swing,  I swing high to reach the sky but I end up on the ground, in a low.

With no sense of self and no idea of where to go.

But no matter how bad it makes me feel,

The trauma it causes is very real.

It tampers with the broken brain I possess.

But this does not discourage me any less.

I swing to feel normal.


Normal is something I am not,

And I know this but I remind myself this every time I return to the swing I got.







Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741