So I'm new at this blogging thing...I'm not sure how long I'll do it or whether I'll keep up with it, but we'll see...

Anyways, here's a short poem I wrote about what it feels like to be manic:

Euphoria
 
It’s an ecstasy unlike any other
It’s a feeling you can’t muster
In any other way but to fly
And when you feel that high
Descent is out of the question
 
Like Icarus, who fell from the sky
I just wanted to fly
And the higher I got
The harder it was to stop
 
No rest for the weary
Sleep is for the weak
Is what I told myself
As I slowly began to sink
 
That’s when I crashed
My wings melted,
And for eleven days my world was smashed
How could it be true
That something was wrong
When everything seemed so perfectly right?
 
It’s happiness so hard it hurts
It’s sorrow so great it wounds
It’s confusion
And denial
And recognition
And finally
Acceptance.
 
I used to say
“If I could bottle that feeling
I would do it today”
Sell that feeling?
That should be illegal
It’s a dangerous elixir
Like any other drug

It has the capacity to kill.