If the regular people.
If the regular people truly understood, if they lived in our skins for a day. If they had the severe depression, the eupohric highs. If they had the nausea and weight gain or weight loss from medication, the nightmares, not only from medication, but also from dreams gone by. If they faced the day with clouds in their eyes, only to have it burned away by the Sun.
If they had to cover their ears to the noise, pull the blinds to the light, knew the wall they were staring at so well. If they woke up in the middle of the night with fear that this will never go away. If they cried for friends and partners lost. If they regretted the stupid things they did in mania, the damage they did to their own lives, and the lives of others.
If they heard the voices, saw the images. If they sat alone in their rooms, yearning to be out with friends, yearning for the hand of a lover. If they understood that sometimes our best friend is a little dog or cat. If they knew the regret, the guilt, the wonder why. If they experienced depression and mania at the same time. If they felt nothing and then everything.
If the regular people were one of us, and we were one of them. For a day. Would we then understand that they dont. Would they then understand that we need them. That we love them.
If the regular people understood. Would we then also smile?
Thing is it does not matter. No matter how hard the rain, you need to smile at yourself. Only you can smile at life. Only you can live
©Herman Le Roux 2016