God if you exist prove it by killing me in my sleep tonight
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God if you exist prove it by killing me in my sleep tonight
i be in my own head fighting for my life
An episode of mania almost always always always starts out so euphorically, makes you feel like you’re on the perfect drug, makes your confidence and motivation sky rocket and has you romanticizing all the fun it baits you with. It feels so amazing, you feel like nothing can hurt you or get to you.
Then the irritability comes, genuine rage, such an uncomfortable and overwhelming increase in libido, dangerous impulses, social behavior to be humiliated from by the time you crash, severe sleep deprivation that disorients the fuck out of you the longer you go without it, without even feeling tired at all. But feeling completely out of control. And if it escalates, Lord help you. Hallucinations, bad paranoia, black outs, substance abuse (or relapse if you happen to be recovering), delusions, everything that could get you into a psych ward. It isn’t fun at the end and any pleasure you feel is completely illusionary.
The worst part is I still normally never want it to stop. Because the depression after, which gets so ugly and terrible the longer, more intense the mania is, is something I’m not looking forward to at all. That, and mania can really sometimes convince you that you love it. I’m not wanting to go there though, because I have a lot to lose. Even if I don’t lose anything, I’m tired of this cycle and just can’t afford to desire it anymore. So I’m managing where I can, but wow it’s just scary to watch it take you higher and higher into it, and further and further away from yourself.
This is precisely why I despise any sort of stigma toward bipolar disorder. It’s so misunderstood, misquoted, and mistreated. I just really want and need some help. My hands are so sweaty and shaky, my heart and my mind are racing, I can’t stop talking, I can’t eat. I can’t focus, I can only fixate. And it’s just so overwhelming already.
My creativity and inspiration are a lot like my mood: sometimes euphoric, productive, and overflowing with ideas, but at other times, scarce, depressive, and nonexistent.
I blink and I’ve wasted almost half the year already. Time is a cruel burden.
It’s either agonizingly slow or painfully fast.
Either way I feel awful.
I really am delusional because I think me disappearing will result in 99+ notifications, 80 asks, 46 DMs, and tons of followers.
my narcissism has the demands of a goddess, but is trapped in the body of a rotting corpse…
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