Roller-coaster (creative writing)

I often compare my OCD to a radio station.

In the studio the sound is so clear and loud.

While a car down the road hears though a stereo.

And a van driving interstate just listens to static.

Some days I'm in that recording booth.

But as I've drove a long way the sound fades each day.

If OCD is a radio station, Bipolar is a theme park.

The flashing lights that should warn, but instead excite me.

I love the biggest roller-coaster, so high and dangerous.

But I can't get off.

The harness so tight, and for a while I like it.

The rattle of the tracks, and wind through my hair.

But I get motion sick.

And I want to leave but I can't.

Until the ride breaks down.

And I throw up.

Now I'm sitting in the first aid tent.

Why can all these people enjoy the park?

They just get on a ride and get right back off.

How are they getting off?

Why do I get stuck?

What's wrong with me?

And I stay there.

The park closes around me.

Everyone went home months ago.

Why am I here?

Why am I alone?

What is the point?

But then the park reopens.

Those lights flash back on.

And that big ride starts again.

And I'm having the time of my life.

Until I can't get off.

So bipolar is a roller-coaster ride of emotional chaos.

But not in the way you'd think.

I might like the rush, but I hate the breakdown.

And I always want to leave.

-Jen xx