A New Battle

Part of the dilemma of having insomniac periods is that a lack of sleep ruins a lot of things in your body. One of those in your sanity. It’s why no one wants to diagnosis me with the more fun labels. They say, “let’s clear the sleeping issues,” over and over again. For awhile, even I thought that maybe my breaks from sanity were really just from the fact I don’t sleep. Then, after a week of being close to a normal sleeping schedule (which I got miraculously after quitting my anxiety meds), I had an episode. It’s not something I’m normally comfortable speaking about. Joking about insanity, and blogging about depression is one thing, but taking the step to admit that I may be bi-polar or schizophrenic is another. It’s the step no one wants to take right now. I guess I have too though. I had a horrible hallucinatory episodes. Thirty minutes after I fell asleep, I woke up to scratches on the walls, that same horrible voice telling me everything I fear was in the room and the horrible sight of a person that won’t go away. My roommate heard me spring up and whimper and cam running into my room. Seeing as I’ve never shared with him that mental illness has taken the path towards insanity, I had to lie about was going on. I sat their silent, grim faced, looking out at the person. Two minutes later I managed to tell him I was fine, it was just a nightmare. He went back to his room. Too bad it was a lie. The image and noises didn’t go away for thirty minutes. Afterwards, I had a sudden panic attack that wouldn’t settle for three hours. It wasn’t something I could control. It was something that left me with a sleepless night. A night that I tried to fix by drinking. All it did was leave me in a rap battle with one of the Frat kids I knew, that was up for none partying reasons at 4 a.m. It’s the night after and I already feel the residual fear and panic surfacing in me. I know it will be another sleepless night. Hopefully, there will be no images or alcohol. I could even avoid a break from really bad white rapping skills. I’ll say this though. When it comes to exercise or panic attacks. Only rock and rap will get me through.

A weary,
I.L. Knight
My Rap:
Hold up.
I don’t know if I wanna start
It’s been awhile since I’ve torn myself apart.
Holding on to all these images
Of some young white girl
And the Jewish Privilege.
I’m not as stable as I want to be.
Just the product of wrath, jealousy, boredom
of the nouveau-riche wannabe.
But you challenge me to fight
Thinking that born to money
is some G-d given right.
That’s my problem with you.
That your attitude is as infectious
as the common flu.
You just keep bringing this all back
Trying to make me ok
With racism, bigotry, sexism and sexualizing my rack.
That same shit left me alone
struggling for my sanity.
Searching for the magical fantasy
where my worth is fixed by my moan.
You will come at me about my color,
Hell I know albino
makes me unique to a certain squalor.
Yes, I know you think I’m part
Of this imaginary religious throne
That I fail at finding
the ideal satisfier of some hormone.
But maybe before you drop crap
about some fat girls 
simple rap.
You re-examine your own self worth
because I’d bet a dollar the dead are rolling on your birth.
Thinking you’d be some mighty king.
The David and Goliath of their small, bought ring.
Yet, their left with a little boy paying
for friends, grades, girls and the right to be seen
like an individual whose been praying.
Worry less about what other’s say
And maybe you’ll be the one the gospel will praise for your return from stray.
You can be one of the masses who hears your Lord’s sway.
Now I’ll be nice, end it here
Unlike you who talks with money and childish fear.
I stand, arms wide to my flaws.
Not some simple follower
but the maker of the future supreme laws.
P.s. Rap battles don’t ruin friendships… just to point out (it’s meant to hit weak points)

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