humanity
Mental health is a fundamental right; the future of humanity depends on it.
Who Am I?
Tell me this… Why am I the way I am? Why am I so different from everyone around me? I can feel the difference in my head. I think in a way no one I know does. I can see the possibilities of everything happening in my head. From the worst to the best. Everything I see I can find the beauty in. I have songs that I think are so beautiful they almost bring me to tears. I have seen the sun between trees as I look out my car window. The black silhouette the light causes to the trees make me smile everytime. I’ve always had really strong feelings towards things, but I never put them out there. I always stay neutral to everyone around me. It’s caused me to be someone who is standing in the background.
By Skylar Miller5 years ago in Psyche
I guess it really runs in the family
I have lived with the diagnosis of bipolar disorder for about five years. I was diagnosed by a psychiatrist in 2016 when I accepted the fact that I needed the help. Mood swings, irritation, irrational thoughts, and manic depression were taking over my life. The truth is it’s still an everyday battle. I have had highs lasting several days, weeks, and even months. The lows have taken me to rock bottom, where I felt like I was losing everything, myself included.
By Anthony Anthem5 years ago in Psyche
It doesn't always do what it says on the tin.
I have subscribed to VOCAL a platform for writers and artists alike. After being told 'for the majority of my life' I am a terrible writer, I can't spell, I can't punctuate, I can of course perform. Always the joker at the party, the one with the bottle to go first at presentations, doesn't need a drink to perform or to present.
By Kelly Marie Francis5 years ago in Psyche
Are You Out There?
I woke up in a dream once, either mine or someone else's... I wonder if it was yours. I opened my eyes to see a breathtaking sky, pink and golden and endless. The blades of soft, green grass tickled my fingertips and my toes. I sat up to find myself in a field of dew sparkled flowers, and just beyond the horizon, a tall, glittering forest. I stood up and looked down at my bare feet. "How small," I whispered, and then noticed the same about my arms and hands as I stretched them out before me. I started walking toward the forest, and soon thereafter, I stepped in a small puddle. Startled, I withdrew my foot from the cool water, and watched as it calmed itself. I was shocked as my reflection revealed, not the grown woman I am now, but the small child I was so many years ago. "Wow," I whispered, and then "Wow!" again louder, as if the child's voice escaping from my lips would confirm that my body had indeed, somehow, reverted in time. Excitement took hold of me. I looked back to the horizon and like a streak of wind, I bolted for the forest ahead.
By Stacey Price5 years ago in Psyche
Shattered past
Falling internally though my past, I am in slow-motion, free as a bird although I know this emotional state will not last long. There is an essence of misdirected tranquillity to cherish as I begin elegantly twirling, whirling to my eternally, doomed destiny. As I reach terminal velocity my conscience begins to fade and with a final grimace of the world I unintentionally constructed, I begin to hallucinate…
By The Lioness5 years ago in Psyche
The storm
The gale howled not to dissimilar to Casanova as the sullen air ensued, the pitter patter of the rain against my souls embodied the orchestrated pursuit. The lighting reverberated off the ground transmitting an involuntary shudder which traced my spine. Conflicted, I halted just for an instance as the flicker of light and trundling of thunder cause me to endeavour in my bearings portraying what ceases to exist as my mind began to reminisce…
By The Lioness5 years ago in Psyche
From Block to Boss:The Diary of an Addict Part 1
Every morning I woke up, feverish, chills running down my spine. My skin felt like tiny needles were pricking me all over. It was as if my epidermis had the carbonation of a freshly opened Sprite. Nausea overcame all my senses. Shaking and sweating, I rolled over searching my nightstand for the cure. Checking the clock, it was 3 AM. My 6-month-old baby still soundly asleep. I opened the drawer on the table. Small, blue glassine bags tucked neatly inside individual mini Ziploc pouches, were strewn all throughout the drawer. I rifled through them, choosing the two that looked the fullest. I began emptying them on the screen of my phone. I used to use my ID, or whatever card was readily available to sort them into lines, but I didn’t bother anymore. What did it matter what shape it was in when I put the heroin up my nose? Shaking, I reached over and grabbed the first dollar bill that my fingers could reach inside of my purse. As carefully as I could, I rolled the bill into a tube and inhaled my instant cure. I lay back, letting my mucus absorb the brownish powder substance and let it drip down the back of my throat. Within minutes, the shaking stopped. The chills went away. My skin didn’t hurt to be touched anymore. I was well again. I peered out of my bedroom window. We were in the middle of a snowstorm. 20 inches of pure white climbed almost to the top of the window frame. Maybe today I’ll have some peace and quiet. Luckily for me, I wasn’t just an addict- I was the supplier as well.
By Jessica LaConte5 years ago in Psyche
My voice in the Mirror
You know when a character has a moral conflict in an animated or comedic movie and the little angel version of themselves appears on one shoulder and a devil appears on the other? It's always been a fun dynamic, visualizing the conflict people have in their heads as they have their inner thoughts displayed to the audience. I wish the mirror was like that. I wish my head was like that actually, letting me actually know what's right and wrong. Every single time I want to think, I find myself drifting to the mirror.
By The DemonMaster5 years ago in Psyche
From Block to Boss- The Diary of an Addict Part 1
Every morning I woke up, feverish, chills running down my spine. My skin felt like tiny needles were pricking me all over. It was as if my epidermis had the carbonation of a freshly opened Sprite. Nausea overcame all my senses. Shaking and sweating, I rolled over searching my nightstand for the cure. Checking the clock, it was 3 AM. My 6-month-old baby still soundly asleep. I opened the drawer on the table. Small, blue glassine bags tucked neatly inside individual mini Ziploc pouches, were strewn all throughout the drawer. I rifled through them, choosing the two that looked the fullest. I began emptying them on the screen of my phone. I used to use my ID, or whatever card was readily available to sort them into lines, but I didn’t bother anymore. What did it matter what shape it was in when I put the heroin up my nose? Shaking, I reached over and grabbed the first dollar bill that my fingers could reach inside of my purse. As carefully as I could, I rolled the bill into a tube and inhaled my instant cure. I lay back, letting my mucus absorb the brownish powder substance and let it drip down the back of my throat. Within minutes, the shaking stopped. The chills went away. My skin didn’t hurt to be touched anymore. I was well again. I peered out of my bedroom window. We were in the middle of a snowstorm. 20 inches of pure white climbed almost to the top of the window frame. Maybe today I’ll have some peace and quiet. Luckily for me, I wasn’t just an addict- I was the supplier as well.
By Jessica LaConte5 years ago in Psyche
The Cypress Tree and the Night’s sky
Before work every morning I rise and paint the city and nearby surroundings. Most mornings, I don't get to finish because I have to hurry off to work and meet the demands of daily life. However, I cannot sleep when the sun rises. The sun creeps into my window every morning, and like a warm friend reminds me of the day's immediate demands. This is even with a cloth over my window. With my mind hazes, I take off the window covering and am nearly blinded by the glaze of our galaxy's only star. It appears completely red most mornings and covers the sky briefly with a yellow tint like my skin.
By Michael Mannen5 years ago in Psyche
