Poetic Bipolar Mind

,

Drowning in Deadlines

I feel as if I am drowning in
Deadlines
&
Promises.
My red eyes, raw and weary, never rest.

I am burdened by the weight of
Time
&
Commitment.
My determination is slipping from my grasp.

Does my youth excuse my mistakes?

Surrounded by voices whispering all day and night.
Telling me, I have never made them proud.
Suffocating in the silent, unspoken disappointment in their eyes.

It’s depressing, don’t you think?
These feelings of anger and hurt are astounding.
Washing over me in overwhelming relentless tides.
The pain locking me in with a paralyzing ache.

I feel as if though I am drowning in
Deadlines
&
Promises.
The work, endless, pulls me deeper.

I wander through the darkness,
Seeking, hoping – yet unsure what for.
Perhaps a moment of peace, or a glimpse of pride,
A reminder that midst this chaos, I’m alive

Written by Kiana Jimenez · Illustration by David White

Jimenez, Kiana. “Drowning in Deadlines.” Poetic Bipolar Mind: Unraveling Life’s Threads Through Art and Words, 2024, p. 23.

Discover more from Poetic Bipolar Mind

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Discover more from Poetic Bipolar Mind

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

  • Carrying Shadows: The Weight and Resilience of Being

    Carrying Shadows: The Weight and Resilience of Being

    Existence is heavy—sometimes unbearably so. Yet within the weight of survival lies resilience, memory, and quiet hope. This reflection explores the burdens we carry, the chains of thought, and the fragile light that reminds us why we continue—even when simply being feels like the hardest battle of all.

  • My Depression and I

    My Depression and I Written by Kiana Jimenez My depression has started seeing other people. We don’t speak about it. We just wait, for poems like this to be written, For the ambulance to be called, For the bathwater to loosen its grip on a body. But tonight, my depression speaks your name like never…

  • Home in the Hollow

    Home in the Hollow

    October in Sleepy Hollow isn’t a costume you put on. It’s home. The fog comes off the Hudson, the pumpkins glow along the trail, and the legend everyone else visits for a weekend is just… where I live. I wrote this for the village that taught me darkness doesn’t have to be something you run…