Her story of delight and dismay dripped from her pen without mercy. 

She wrote; with constantly clenched fists, knuckles white and hands shaking. 

The words rushed out of her mind, almost as if they were longing to be released from the prison that is her mind. 

She ran toward the pages of her journal, chasing an unbeknownst feeling.  Was it happiness she wanted, or simply to live her life freely? 

Advertisements

About zedmondson

Zoe. 22. Australia. I'm writing to share my experiences with Bipolar Disorder with others. I believe in fighting stigma surrounding mental illness. I believe in being able to wear my heart on my sleeve; or on my blog. And I believe in myself. That's what my blog is all about. Hope you enjoy x View all posts by zedmondson

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: