It was no so long ago.. very frickin' recently, in fact, that a kindly woman with sharp fangs and death-ray eyes sneered down at me from high atop Mount Fortunate and belittled me about my apparent drifting toward the doldrums of our fine seas.

Someone was razzing me for being depressed. Oh, she finds the joy and the love and the energy in the birds and the rabbits and the flowers and the winds, but I, the miserable one, merely toil in a ceaseless gloom and am so much a waste.

Thank you.

If I had a broken leg, or no leg at all, would you run circles around me, mocking my lack of speed? If I was retarded, would you challenge me with physics and poke at my stupidity? If I was blind, would you make lewd gestures before me and giggle to yourself? If I was deaf, would you call me names and slap your legs in hysteria?

I am a manic depressive. A Bipolar Type 2. Classic. I have an affliction. It is something I suffer. It is like every morning I wake up to find my best friend has died, and every night I come to realize my best friend is me. And every so often, less and less frequently it seems as I age, perhaps years apart, I get a reprieve called "hypomania" in which perhaps for a month or two I will go apeshit with energy and genuinely enjoy being alive. It is a shitty life. Sorry. Perhaps I should have ended it there before her and ruined her day.

I did not appreciate being ridiculed about it. Oddly enough, the events of life don't bring me down much. I'm down to start with. Life, at best, serves only to piss me off. That's called the "mixed-state". That's when I do things like pack all of my belongings and move a thousand miles away. I lead a miserable existence. I cannot help that. I do not pretend otherwise. There's a light that glows dimly deep inside of me. If I can figure out what to do with it, perhaps there is a moment worthwhile. Just don't piss me off. Go pick on a retard or an invalid or a mute or someone else instead.