Forever I am stuck,

In this viscous cycle of recovery,

Never ending my brain turns,

Churning out the cycler thoughts,

Which spin the paranoia,

Out of thin air,

Such circles spin and spin,

As I sit stuck in this everlasting cycle,

Recovering from each stressful moment,

Each time feeling little further from the start,

Slower than most,

Yet, I still feel accomplished.

There I stand,

Year after year,

Looking through my life,

I see the immaturity,

Mixed with horrible mental health,

There a year,

Here a year,

Everywhere a disaster,

Some stressful moment layawaying my boat,

Never fast enough to sail,

Never slow enough to dock,

Always floundering about,

As I stare of the forecastle into the distant horizon,

Which I dream is where,

Those without mental health issues lay their weary heads,

Ahead of me in life,

Understanding things I don’t,

With the ability to be happy about it.

How I dream I was them sometimes,

Other times I rest in full acceptance,

Yet, those dreams linger,

If only I could just get over it,

If only I could push past it,

If only when I opened my mouth,

Those without heard what I had,

With just an ounce of understanding,

Instead, I stare into blank faces,

A stranger in the land of human emotion.