reclamation of rhythms

I was upset. Unbalanced. You’re as moody as I am, she told me, and I’m bipolar. Have you thought about medication? All I wanted was to get out of here, and for a fast and uncomplicated transition. No submerging into my own introversions. No dizzying intoxications. Minimal stress and panic. Once settled I could go back to being unsettled. I tried to cherish the morning. I tried to read a book. I offered to watch over the kids of divorced parents next door. I tried and failed. Someone wanted my heart. To consume it. Jagged rocks ahead in the mist. She told me, you have no control over your life. She’s right. I don’t know how to say no. I drop everything important to me for nothing. Why? I have lost any cadence. I am in a sorry state. And this is why I am heading for the dead center of the city in the north where, inside its industrial rhythms, my own I may reclaim. 

by  #katyamills from [July 14, 1998] journals