Image: Les bons et les mauvais jours by Magnetic

My therapist says,
"Tell me about the bad days."
Fine, let's play two truths and a lie
Except this time, there will be one truth and a thousand lies,
But I will never tell you which is which.

I'll start with:
The bad days are few and far between.
When they happen, they end quickly,
So it doesn't burden my life,
Social or otherwise.
When the bad days come,
I remind myself of my family and friends-
The ones whom I know love me very much.
This helps a lot.
When a bad day ends,
It's easy to wake up and get moving again,
As if I was just taking a moment's nap.
When I'm buried in a bad day,
I know I will get out if it and that
I'll be okay.
When the bad days are at their worst,
I know I can call for help:
my dad, you (my therapist), an ambulance.
Sometimes I know when a bad day is about to start, so
I pray to God that the bad day will not come, because
I have not lost God.
When a bad day turns into a bad week,
Or gets so deep that I think about the pocket knife on my bedside table,
Placed there for my own protection,
I gather the blankets in my room and bury myself beneath them,
Half hoping for Death to save me,
Half hoping for Life to save me.

When I have a good day,
I never question if it might be mania
Because I don't think bi-polar destroyed my, nor my mother's, life.
When I have a good day,
I am always grateful
Because the bad days are just that bad.