Bipolarity (English version)

She doesn’t define me, I’ve been told I am not her. But for me...She’s addictive. I softly whisper to her until she falls asleep and I become sleepless just to take care of her every night, I dry her tears with my wrists. She cuts me with her fragility, she heals with my pain, crimson red fascinates her but only when actions with the potential of becoming tragedies wear it. It’s difficult to separe my personality from hers when she has taken control over my body for most of my existence.

One minute she will tolerate you and a few minutes after...She won’t want you around anymore. She’s volatile and unpredictable, impulsive in the most singular way. She falls in love with intensity and in that same way...If you betray our trust, she can walk away and forget that once upon a time you were part of us. 

I could tell you that she is two very different people, one of them is always empty and keeps me frozen inside my room, she tends to shed tears for no apparent reason and her thoughts are viciously unstable for my will to keep myself alive.

The other one...She wants to conquer everything, she plans to create so many things. But...She always wants to put me in danger with her erratic impulses. I don’t trust either of her sides.

 I never know if tomorrow she will wake up loving her world, or in the worst case...Hating it to point of wanting to abandon it. She’s my most used accessory and even though she was expensive, she never went out of fashion...There was always someone who is intrigued and drawn to her melancholy, others simply want to fix her or make her part of their collection.

 I let her plant herself inside me, she comes from seeds...Now her roots are long, profound and venomous. They wrap themselves around my sanity and keep growing inside it. And due to the poison, I fall in a state of delirium that eventually drives me to confusion. 

Why am I still loving her and calling her mine even when she wounds me?

Am I an unstable girl, or have I only been temporarily unstable? 

Why can’t anybody love her the way I do?

Is she partially who I am?

Am I more of myself or more of her?