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Energy Drinks & Panic Attacks
I really shouldn't drink energy drinks.
Even if they taste like apple Jolly Rancher & that makes me like them more.
I really shouldn't drink energy drinks.
Because they give me forced mania, a high, a buzz & a kick that I can't shake.
And so I enter three competitions, writing three poems.
Research everything I need to know about Sylvia Plath.
Got my mother to agree to buy me a book called Pain, Party, Work by some author I can't remember the name to. Elizabeth something. It's about Sylvia Plath.
And than I wrote a chapter for my book about a girl named Misty LeStrange.
She's a movie star whose mother abandoned her when she was three.
Than when she eighteen years old, her mother suddenly reappears claiming to have found God and wants Misty to stand up at her wedding.
And so Misty is forced to go.
To "Safe Harbor", Maine for six weeks.
Because her mother has visitation rights for six weeks out of the summer with her daughter in the divorce that was finalized when Misty was six years old.
Her father didn't remember that part of the agreement because he was in a depression.
And so she leaves behind her superstar life and goes to a small Christian town in a town whose mayor is their pastor and is the man that Misty's mother is marrying.
I'm on chapter thirty-one right now.
And than I started a story that's written in verse, which means each chapter is a poem.
But now I'm shaking and my heart is pounding and I'm clinging to a panic attack as I write this trying to use up all the energy in my body. Trying to ignore the panic attack and the headache. Trying to ignore the fact that I'm rambling and that I had thought about three hours ago about writing a poem about how Monster Energy drinks effect me but I didn't get around to it until now. And here I am, writing it right now.
I really shouldn't have energy drinks.
It reminds me of when I was an insomniac writing poems as fictional characters.
I think about words I might spell wrong.
But will refuse to fix because it's my state of mind.
And if I wasn't typed these things right now, I'd forget them the moment I said them.
Because my mind feels like it's moving at warp speed while the rest of me is lying on the ground staring up at the blinding sun in the desert. But I've never been in desert and now I'm thinking about a camel smoking Camel cigarettes, and that doesn't make sense because I don't know anyone that smokes Camel cigarettes and I feel like Emilie Autumn writing her drug diary. And I'm waiting for the "Eight Hour" rule to be up on Deep Underground so I can post this poem.
And hope that people comment on it.
And like it.
And maybe someone will like it so much because they do this too.
They drink energy drinks even though they shouldn't.
They do many amazing things on that high of mania and craziness, in that high of bubbly and amazing bliss that makes us want to burst like a bottle of champagne.
And than they ignore panic attacks and headaches and sleep but writing more and more and more and more.
And my boyfriend is playing Call of Duty.
And my baby is asleep.
And my mom just went to bed.
And I'm just so hyper and so tired at the same time.
And so calm and so jittery at the same time.
I am a jitterbug, that's a dance isn't it? I don't know from what time though.
I think they did it on "Dancing with the Stars", I use to love watching that show.
I'm really tired. . .
And the eight hours are up!
I can post this poem now!
And use exclamation points!
It's 1:22am, on June 9th, 2013
And I am writing a poem-rant-thought process, about energy drinks & panic attacks.
And you know what really sucks.
It was just a normal sized Monster can.
Even if they taste like apple Jolly Rancher & that makes me like them more.
I really shouldn't drink energy drinks.
Because they give me forced mania, a high, a buzz & a kick that I can't shake.
And so I enter three competitions, writing three poems.
Research everything I need to know about Sylvia Plath.
Got my mother to agree to buy me a book called Pain, Party, Work by some author I can't remember the name to. Elizabeth something. It's about Sylvia Plath.
And than I wrote a chapter for my book about a girl named Misty LeStrange.
She's a movie star whose mother abandoned her when she was three.
Than when she eighteen years old, her mother suddenly reappears claiming to have found God and wants Misty to stand up at her wedding.
And so Misty is forced to go.
To "Safe Harbor", Maine for six weeks.
Because her mother has visitation rights for six weeks out of the summer with her daughter in the divorce that was finalized when Misty was six years old.
Her father didn't remember that part of the agreement because he was in a depression.
And so she leaves behind her superstar life and goes to a small Christian town in a town whose mayor is their pastor and is the man that Misty's mother is marrying.
I'm on chapter thirty-one right now.
And than I started a story that's written in verse, which means each chapter is a poem.
But now I'm shaking and my heart is pounding and I'm clinging to a panic attack as I write this trying to use up all the energy in my body. Trying to ignore the panic attack and the headache. Trying to ignore the fact that I'm rambling and that I had thought about three hours ago about writing a poem about how Monster Energy drinks effect me but I didn't get around to it until now. And here I am, writing it right now.
I really shouldn't have energy drinks.
It reminds me of when I was an insomniac writing poems as fictional characters.
I think about words I might spell wrong.
But will refuse to fix because it's my state of mind.
And if I wasn't typed these things right now, I'd forget them the moment I said them.
Because my mind feels like it's moving at warp speed while the rest of me is lying on the ground staring up at the blinding sun in the desert. But I've never been in desert and now I'm thinking about a camel smoking Camel cigarettes, and that doesn't make sense because I don't know anyone that smokes Camel cigarettes and I feel like Emilie Autumn writing her drug diary. And I'm waiting for the "Eight Hour" rule to be up on Deep Underground so I can post this poem.
And hope that people comment on it.
And like it.
And maybe someone will like it so much because they do this too.
They drink energy drinks even though they shouldn't.
They do many amazing things on that high of mania and craziness, in that high of bubbly and amazing bliss that makes us want to burst like a bottle of champagne.
And than they ignore panic attacks and headaches and sleep but writing more and more and more and more.
And my boyfriend is playing Call of Duty.
And my baby is asleep.
And my mom just went to bed.
And I'm just so hyper and so tired at the same time.
And so calm and so jittery at the same time.
I am a jitterbug, that's a dance isn't it? I don't know from what time though.
I think they did it on "Dancing with the Stars", I use to love watching that show.
I'm really tired. . .
And the eight hours are up!
I can post this poem now!
And use exclamation points!
It's 1:22am, on June 9th, 2013
And I am writing a poem-rant-thought process, about energy drinks & panic attacks.
And you know what really sucks.
It was just a normal sized Monster can.
Published 9th Jun 2013
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