It all started with six months sober, and four months of a depression I can't even begin to explain. The walls crowding around me, my skin tearing from the tendens. A bash of rashing emotions, something I'd equal to a flash fload, only lasting months at a time and talking to you. Like, little devilish green men inside your brain telling you to off yourself for no "appearent" reason, except that it's really the only way. Fuck that. Logically I am intelligent, not always brilliant, whitty, well written, or even well put together.. But I can't care about those things in bouts like these.

I am beginning to feel better, happier again. I have realized that I am really needy for some receptivity. I don't know if that has been a part of this whole 'therapy' sort of thing.
I have no idea what to tell therapists. I think I have an appointment with one this week or next week. I just want to tell people things, and when they hear me- and the voice becomes more than this...emptiness..it must be an emotional thing. I feel like, sharing and caring is important because a person cannot just love themselves can they? Even if they do, that doesn't cut it. Humans are social animals and cutting them off of resources is not the way to help them continue the evolution of the population, of human-kind and all it's beauty and wonders. I agree that life has been hard for some, but not for everyone. We should look on the happy side!

 

A Manic episode can elevate instantly. One night I was washing the china, the next night I was China. For months after I was desperately racing. Going nowhere. Going off. My mind glowed like a rocket, wildly churning out ideas. The ideas were totally unconnected, or, at best, hinged on a sliver of wordplay. At first this made me feel powerful, it’s unbelievably entertaining. After a while, it was like having a demented television set in my brain that I couldn’t turn off.