‘Andromeda galaxy’

A student describes how his mental health disorder spirals around his brain in a poem.

CLAIRE HALLORAN / THE TEMPLE NEWS

Sometimes I feel like

The Andromeda galaxy,

A collection of millions of suns

And billions of planets

Falling into itself

While simultaneously

Exploding outward

Every which way

It pleases.

I’ll be like Andromeda

For a bit

Before becoming

Milky Way,

Just another

Million suns

And

Billion planets

All jumbled around

And bound to die

In this life

Or

The next,

Spiraling out of control

Tightening,

Expanding,

Imploding,

Exploding.

They say we’re all made up of

Star dust.

Perhaps that old adage

Could explain

My spiraling brain.

Maybe obsession

Is just a leftover relic

From the golden age

Of nebulae,

A simple spiraling caricature

Of the universe itself.

Maybe obsession is its own

Tiny universe.

Maybe I’m just crazy.

Who gives a shit anyway?

We spiral

And

Spiral

And

Spiral

And find ourselves

Right

Back where we started.

Maybe obsession is just

A symptom of being

In a world where there’s so much

To obsess over.

Maybe obsession is just

Our own inevitable downfall

That gets us nowhere.

Maybe I’m just trying

To be some damn old poet

Trying to make sense of

My damn old poet brain.

Trying.

Trying.

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