Depersonalization

You call it:

Depersonalization,

Dissociation,

Detachment,

Disconnection,

Or a Dream-like state

A Diagnostic criteria for the DSM-IV to the define the disorders of the undeselfed self

You describe the causation:

Deep trauma that results in a deselfing of the undeselfed self

Damage to neurons from drug use

I have lost connection with my self. I have no connection with my past experiences. I have no connection to the people in my past.

My past is every second which is not now

Your face is new,

It does not evoke an emotional reaction

It does not evoke a visual familiarity

You are not part of the deselfed self, you do not constitute a part of my deselfed self.

What we have shared does not constitute a part of my deselfed self

Then what does?

My memories are there, flitting across my mind’s eye like faces of strangers in the windows as I stand on the side of the Metro tracks

Inconsequential

This is not amnesia, I remember

Why does it scare me?

Why does it trigger paranoid ideations that I am another being in this body that does not belong to me?

In this life that does not belong to me?

What if I wasn’t scared?

Can I accept that this deselfed self is another fleeting manifestation of transience?

That what You tell you me the undeselfed is, is not?

Is not, that is why it doesn’t constitute my deselfed self?

If I know that I am deselfing Your construction of what my undeselfed is and not my self,

Then What am I scared of?

Rabid Special ver2.4

I did think I was a better and more evolved version of bipolar, the new and improved bipolar 2.4, a rare edition of the self aware non medicated calm maniac.

I thought it was one of those sometimes I’m not bipolar phases.

I thought I was better, because I knew my psyche and because I knew what the signs were.

I really did think I was better than the rest

Because I am not on medication,

Because I can articulate this obscure fluctuation

Because I can accept my loss of control without losing it

I thought I had beaten it, I thought I wasn’t another bipolar

I wasn’t another psycho freak

I thought I was special

I still thought I was special the limited edition version 2.4 as I gnawed through my arm like a hungry rabid dog

I thought I was special because I currently am going through a depressive episode and I am totally aware of it, I am working out my issues, I’m not just another bipolar, I am an enlightened bipolar.

I thought I was special because I understood that the rabid dog had to feed and I could control it with applied behavioural motivational therapy, no no no not control train through a series of positive reinforcements. I accepted my rabid dog and I respected my rabid dog.

And it respected me.

I thought I was special because I thought I was better

Better than you, better than every bipolar, better than you nonbipolars because I have the bipolar edge

When I cannot control my voice

When I cannot control my actions

When I cannot control my tears

When I cannot control my drama queen

When I cannot explain it anymore

When I am humiliated by a self that I do not know

I know I am not in control

When I am no longer there, but I am

When I cannot accept this part of me, but it is

When the rabid dog wants to feed and I do not want to give it an arm

When I want to put it down

I am not better

I am not special

I am another A bipolar

I am another A bipolar who cannot accept it because I think I am better

Because I think I am special but I am another A bipolar who isn’t better and who isn’t special but thinks there are, who cannot accept it they are A bipolar because they think they are special and that they are better,

when they are just another A bipolar who isn’t better and who isn’t special

(wow, I just realized how I have been using my "illness" to feed my ego, wow aren't I special, aren't I better?)