Kubra Hurhun

[kubrahurhun]

my heart feels loud today. i’m carrying it carefully.

kübra hurhun ✦ bipolar artist & mental health advocate (@kuebrahurhun) • Instagram photos and videos

1,026 Followers, 1,201 Following, 323 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from kübra hurhun ✦ bipolar artist & mental health advocate (@

[kubrahurhun]

soft moments matter more when your mind can change without warning.

kübra hurhun ✦ bipolar artist & mental health advocate (@kuebrahurhun) • Instagram photos and videos

1,026 Followers, 1,201 Following, 323 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from kübra hurhun ✦ bipolar artist & mental health advocate (@

[kubrahurhun]

my brain changes channels without asking. i’m the one who has to keep living inside it. bipolar means learning my own patterns, again and again.

kübra hurhun ✦ bipolar artist & mental health advocate (@kuebrahurhun) • Instagram photos and videos

1,026 Followers, 1,201 Following, 323 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from kübra hurhun ✦ bipolar artist & mental health advocate (@

[kubrahurhun]

some days feel magical. some feel heavy. i live with both.

kübra hurhun ✦ bipolar artist & mental health advocate (@kuebrahurhun) • Instagram photos and videos

1,026 Followers, 1,201 Following, 323 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from kübra hurhun ✦ bipolar artist & mental health advocate (@

[kubrahurhun]

i feel electric and i know that feeling can burn.

kübra hurhun ✦ bipolar artist & mental health advocate (@kuebrahurhun) • Instagram photos and videos

1,026 Followers, 1,201 Following, 323 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from kübra hurhun ✦ bipolar artist & mental health advocate (@

[kubrahurhun]

Let’s make a collage with me! 🐇🫠

[kubrahurhun]

Overthinking drains me. It’s like my mind refuses to rest, spinning endless scenarios that aren’t real—but in the moment, they feel real enough to hurt. I can go from calm to anxious in seconds, reacting to things that haven’t even happened. My chest tightens, my stomach knots, my whole body feels sick from the weight of thoughts that came out of nowhere. It’s exhausting—how something imagined can twist my emotions so completely, how I can cry over a conversation that never existed, or feel guilt for something I didn’t even do. It’s like being trapped in a loop I can’t escape, where my own thoughts become a storm I can’t outrun.

[kubrahurhun]

I have bipolar disorder, and sometimes it feels like there are at least three versions of me—stable, manic, and depressed—each one with its own voice, its own rhythm, its own way of moving through the world. I don’t always know which one is the “real” me, or if there even is such a thing as one true version. Maybe I’m all of them, maybe I’m something in between. But what I do know is that I’m not ashamed. This disorder doesn’t define all of me, but it’s a part of me—a part that’s shaped how I feel, how I love, how I survive. I’m still whole, even if that wholeness shifts and bends. And I won’t hide it. This is me, as I am.

[kubrahurhun]

I have bipolar disorder, and I’m done pretending that’s something to be ashamed of. Screw the stigma—mental illness is not a punchline, not an overreaction, and definitely not a sign of weakness. It’s real. It’s messy. And it takes strength to live with it every single day. I’m tired of the sideways glances, the labels, the silence. This isn’t about drama, it’s about surviving a mind that doesn’t always play fair. I’m not less because of it. I’m not broken. I’m human—and mental illness is just one piece of the story, not the whole damn identity.

[kubrahurhun]

bipolar disorder 🧠💊🩵✨

[kubrahurhun]

I have bipolar disorder, and I’ve been stable for a while now. People say that’s a good thing—and I know it is—but no one talks about how dull it can feel. Everything is muted, flat, like I’m watching life through a dusty window. Sometimes, I even miss being depressed. Not the pain, not the emptiness—but the intensity. When I’m in depression, at least I feel things deeply, raw and real, like every breath is soaked in meaning, even if it hurts.

[kubrahurhun]

Second Skin

Which one is me? The one who can’t get out of bed, who feels like their bones are filled with cement, or the one who jokes around and replies to texts like nothing’s wrong? People talk about “normal” like it’s a place you can get back to, like a home you just haven’t visited in a while. But what if I was never really normal to begin with? With bipolar disorder, I swing between too much and too little, and somewhere in between I disappear. I’ve worn depression like a second skin—it knows me, holds me, drags me down and tells me this is who I really am. And maybe it’s right. Because no matter how good things get, how bright the day is, I always feel it lurking. I know how to fake being okay. But being depressed? That’s the version that feels the most honest. The rest just feels like survival.

[kubrahurhun]

Bipolar Depression 🌊

[kubrahurhun]

Yes, I’ve been through things. Yes, I carry the cracks. But I’m still soft. Still dreaming. Still blooming.

[kubrahurhun]

I am spending my time with people who are good for my mental health.

[kubrahurhun]

Soft Skies, Heavy Heart

Even when the sky outside is soaked in pink clouds and rainbow light, like a scene pulled from a dream, my heart drags something no one else can feel. There’s a weight stitched into me—raw, invisible, relentless. I laugh, I nod, I move through the day like I’m fine, but inside it’s like I’m carrying a scream that has nowhere to go. The world looks soft and kind, but my chest is a clenched fist, tight with things I can’t name. It’s a cruel split—outside, everything is glowing; inside, I’m just trying to make it to the next breath.