In the days before
My soul-saving diagnosis
And subsequent prescription regimen,
People would come close
Then flee
In the face of overwhelming
Emotional madness.
Mentally I was always sharp,
No question there
As to my stability,
But the hungers for affection,
For acceptance,
Were influenced,
Nay, exacerbated,
By rampant chemical imbalance,
Not to mention raging hormones,
Making it nearly impossible
Not to smother those
Who strayed too close
With unwanted attachment.
Would be friends
Jumped ship,
And the poor fools
For whom I developed crushes
Were forced to hide behind
Whatever convenient obstacle
Could be found between us.
Now, I regret those days
With a bitter conscience.
I am told not to be
So hard on myself
But it is difficult.
How many friends did I lose,
How many loves did I miss,
Simply because some element
Of my brain was imbalanced?
Happily, those days are past
For the reasons were found
And treatments prescribed
That make me as "normal"
As I am ever going to be.
Now my friends do not run,
And they describe me
As "smart," "loving," "funny,"
And, best of all,
Simply "quirky."
O how wonderful it is
To finally put behind me
Those days when
I was mad.