The Runner

If things don’t go your way, you run. Always half in and half out. You humiliate me in front of my family. Storm out and throw gravel while in the middle of a cookout. Come home and sleep for 7 more hours, after sleeping until noon anyway. Then run for the door when you wake up. When is it my turn to run? When do I get to be the selfish prick and leave you to deal with fucking mess left behind?

This entry was posted in Bipolar, Mental Health. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Runner

  1. You matter. “He’s not the sun, you are.”


  2. mimi says:

    Zebra, I hope you are taking a good care of yourself…


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