Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

By: Thanduxolo Buti

Thanduxolo Buti

Every day I wake up and swallow a bunch of pills so I can face this dark twisted world. I take one to be able to smile like a porcelain doll all day, I take one to sleep away the night like a little kitten. This is my new life since I found myself lying in some cold ward begging and clinging on to my dear life. It still amazes me to think of how my world spiralled down and crumbled into pieces before my eyes. How was it possible because I thought I had it all together? I had a dozen friends, the perfect lover who adored me to death and I was living my dream studying journalism at one of the best schools in South Africa. Every day was mine. I would strut my stuff at the Soshanguve North campus with my infectious smile while many would die with envy. I had it all.

Fast forward a couple of months later and I am being evaluated by a psychiatrist, so intoxicated with all the drugs I could hardly grasp the events that were occurring before my eyes. Laying on that bed, wet with my tears, I couldn’t see anything but yet my eyes were wide open. I would reach out for my phone every five seconds and still there were zero messages and no missed calls. I guess the world carries on. All the dozens of friends I had, yeah they disappeared without a trace and the lover I once I had was millions of miles way still nursing a broken heart after I had walked all over it, stumbled on it and spat on it. How could it be that I managed to chase away the one person who had ever cared about me within just a couple of months is the question that still lingers on my mind.

I spent a month at Mulbarton Hospital being nursed back to being my old self. I was told I was suffering from Bipolar. What is that? That was the first question I asked, but it appears that after all the sleepless nights, promiscuity, heavy drinking, fluctuating moods and months of dark depression I had finally received my answer. It was Bipolar. The rest of my life I would be depending on pills and psychotherapy in order to survive in this cruel world. Three months later I still take my medication (sometimes) and I visit my shrink but yet so little has changed. I still prefer to sit in the dark, listen to the heart wrenching sounds of Alanis Morissette, sleep and wake up to the same routine. I can’t remember the last time I saw the sun or smelled the breeze. I have become a prisoner within myself and every day is a winding road. What has become of the boy who was once reeking of love and joy? What has become of me?

Advertisements