CRAZY LOVE

BY LAURA A. PISANO

Love is a bitch. You may think you love someone, and then you meet her. That someone you have been missing. That someone you have been waiting for. She is the one who you have loved all of your life, before the two of you even met. You want so badly to let her know all of which is locked inside your heart and what will remain there forever. And only she holds the key. Only she has that glorious way of winning your heart. With all her faults, doubts, and fears, you love her will all that you are and all that you have. And you want to be there for her through everything. You want to be there to love her, to care for her, to want her, and no one else.
I loved a girl name Charlotte. I love a girl name Charlotte. I will always love a girl, and her name will forever be Charlotte. The only woman who, when I am at my ultimate worst—my rock bottom— has the ability to put the biggest, most genuine smile on my face. She has that ability to send an unbelievable burning sensation—a general, wonderful warmth—throughout my heart. However, there is one thing that to this day I still don’t understand.
The most excruciating, painful factor in this whole ordeal is that she always came to me. No matter how much I loved her and wanted to tell her, I loved her enough to wait and see if she felt the same. I loved her enough to let her walk into my heart and allow me to walk into hers when she was ready. I thought that if she wanted me, she would realize it sooner or later without a single doubt in her mind. She would realize that I was the only one for her, the one she wanted to come home to, and the one she wanted to grow old with and travel the world. She is my first love and will always be. I have never felt this for another woman nor do I think I ever will. She is everything to me. Even in her times of weakness, I know Charlotte is strong. After all that we have been through, I would find it quite a surprise if she is not the one for me. I can imagine an entire life with her, the both of us, side by side.


CHAPTER ONE: BIPOLAR DISORDER
I may have Bipolar Disorder, but it sure doesn’t have me. I am nineteen years old today and have been diagnosed with Bipolar since the tender era of adolescence. If there is one thing I have learned about myself, it is that I am undeniably intelligent. I may not always know how to put words together correctly to get my point across or how to focus on simple tasks. But it is because my thoughts are so intricate and complex, and constantly running. I have been defined as a deep thinker my entire life, and just now am learning how to deal with it. Although I used to think of it as a burden and a stressor, nowadays I am trying to view of it more as a gift, because that is the case. I not only think about something, but I think about it in every single way that it can be thought of. For instance, I’m thinking about an apple. I not only think about the size, color, and shape of the apple, but the sound it makes when you bite into it, all the flavors that come along with it. I think about the moisture, texture, and feel. That is how typical patients with Bipolar Disorder think. I am not alone, and neither are you.
TO BE CONTINUED…


CHAPTER TWO: HOW I MET CHARLOTTE
I was sitting in the cafeteria talking to my peers. It was not a normal conversation among us crazies, but then again, what is normal anyway? We had so much fun just laughing off all of our issues and weaknesses. It took away the pain. The pain caused from knowing that we are in fact mentally ill, and that we cannot live like other people who don’t have to take ten different meds a day. It is not easy living with a psychological disorder. However, at the same time, it is a gift that most do not realize.
I laughed at something my friend had said prior and turned away for a split second. A split second and a lift of my eyes was all it took. I raised my head and my eyes immediately shot across the cafeteria. There she was. A tall, lean, beautiful girl with long, dark hair pulled back in a pony tail. When she turned her head, I saw the look in her eyes. It was a sad, lost, lonely look. And while I knew I wasn’t going to be anyone’s savior, I felt something when I looked at her, a protective something. It was something I’d never felt before, and I knew our paths would soon cross. Trying to keep my breath, I turned back to my friend and once again engaged in the conversation.
When we got back to the unit, I could hardly breathe. I talked to people, yes, but I cannot honestly say that I was fully present one-hundred percent of the time. Of course it was because I was thinking non-stop. I was thinking about the girl I had seen in the cafeteria earlier, hoping she would come over to our unit from the stabilization ward. So after I came in from the unit smoke break, I sat down and began coloring a picture. I didn’t know what else to do to get my mind off of this mystery girl.
TO BE CONTINUED…

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 13.04.2011

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