Seventeen.

When I was seventeen, I lost my mind for the first time, and the world became a frightening place.
I lost my understanding of reality,
when the bipolar beast reared its ugly face.

Suddenly, my brain malfunctioned and made me paranoid,
I no longer trusted anyone, and believed they wanted to ruin me.
It was like my life had been destroyed,
and I was living in a post-apocalyptic, nightmarish dream.

Attempted suicide so many times the hospital staff all knew me by name,
oblivious to reason, I was convinced a microchip had been implanted in my brain.
I watched afraid as everything I knew and loved went up in flames,
in order to refrain from harming myself or others, I was placed in restraints.

Traveled across Canada by bus in order to escape and get away,
running away only made it worse, and I was locked away again.
Days turned to weeks then months, as I slowly returned to the me of yesterday.
There is nothing in this life that compares to the anguish of mental illness and its pain.