Featured: Who am I really?
Dancing with ButterfliesShe was dancing with butterflies in a disorienting world. A chaotic expanse of a mind barely absent sent her soaring into the stars, unaware of the desolation left in an ongoing rampage. Reality was an illusion; a long forgotten memory and an old friend lost in the passing of time. Her grasp on sanity was a laughable hallucination; a deception of grandiose ideas and irrational behaviors from a reason abandoned. To her, everything was wonderful and magical, dancing amongst the butterflies of true madness.Dancing with Butterflies by SMAdams
From the Wishing Star...“Once in awhile, right in the middle of an ordinary life…love comes along and brings you a fairy tale.”From the Wishing Star... by SMAdams
The quote was printed on a cheap plaque that hung in her kitchen. It was a constant reminder her life was anything but ordinary. And yet, love still found her in the depths of her troubled existence. It was difficult to look back at the memories of what she had endured and survived, but where she had come from would never be lost in her mind. Triggers, reminders of what she had been through, often provided terrifying sleepless nights.
Now, her life was more than she ever imagined. Never had she believed she deserved what found her and gave her new meaning. So many amazing things had come to pass, and they continued to happen as time moved forward. Every day was a day of thanks for what she treasured the most at any given moment; a husband who adored her, and a child who filled her days with a constant wonder.
She did not like arguing with him,
breaddoctors pure as angels, white as chefsbread by jade-pandora
peruse menus on clipboards,
their exhaustion mouthed in metric
from a graveyard shift cuisine
measuring the flour, cutting off the surplus,
adhering to rules, to rules, to rules-
hospital smocks' mocking exposure
to cold air and latex
the way fatigue sets in when
bilious walls deaden,
bringing on the drone of
as a hypo plunges deep into
a fat vein, pliant and compliant,
to siphon me through the
emptiness outside the box-
a distant voice is counting backwards...
I smell bread baking
|ItDoesNotHaveMe is an awareness group on deviantART started by opioid after unexpected but incredibly positive feedback for her Lyme Disease article on dA's editorial news. It is a place where artists coping with illness--either physical or mental, their own or a loved one's--can seek out a headquarters for awareness and expression.|
Submissions to the group's gallery should be directly related to an illness or condition. There must be a mention of this illness or condition in the Artist's Comments.
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