bipolar mania
an excerpt of what my experience is, written when I was experiencing such thoughts. TW: depictions of bp1 mania, sh, dissociation, overstimulation, and slight psychosis (not heavily focused on, but there nonetheless).
It’s going so fast. Too fast. Everything is bright and light and it hurts andihurt— my head is running and running I’m running and running it’s all running around me in circles and ovals and squares and triangles and more circles again. I can’t feel anything, I stopped feeling emotions a week ago, and physical things a couple days ago. I scratched my skin until I bled, I bit my arm until the bite marks wouldn’t leave. I slept three hours every night but I cant even feel the eyebags forming. The fog, electric, beautiful fog that covers everything of me. My mind doesn't need real feelings, only that electric fog that masks what I see, makes me hear things that aren't really there. I’m not really there. I speak fast. Too fast. Too much information to tell people. My words are shorter, less fancy than they should be and it hurts. Not hurt. I can’t feel hurt. It feels like it should hurt and I should be flat on my face. But I'm not. I’m more than human now, I can see things regular people wouldn’t see. I can understand more than a human brain could dream of. I can fly. I can run out and no one would give a damn because I am here, and they are there. And I am running and running and running and running and running and running and the light in my eyes is growing brighter and brighter and I hurt so bad. Bad bad bad bad bad. I can’t stop moving, my mind won’t stop trying to escape my head. I try to use up the energy, try to end this cycle of running in circles by pacing and fidgeting and talking and writing and training and every single hobby I can think of… it's not enough. I’m going to explode. I haven't felt anything in days, I cursed out my friend. I ran into traffic. I did it. I did it and I was wrong. And I can't stop running. Runningrunningrunningrunning— when's the last time I ate? Or drank? Or used the bathroom? It's irrelevant. I'm not real. I don't need sustenance. Or rest. Or humanity. Humanity? Is that really what I am? It can't be! I'm not them! I don't feel like them, with love and hurt and happiness and sorry and I hurt I hurt ihurtihurtihurtihurtihurtihurtIHU- deep breath. Big. deep breath. Breathe. I'm okay. I will be okay. My stomach’s not bleeding anymore, only red with scratching. My arms are indented, yet the marks are fading. Time is passing. Time is running away from me and all I've done is run and run and run and pace and fidget and move and move and keep moving or else I will go insane with these bright lights that make my head buzz with more electricity and more fog clouds my vision and thoughts. I CANT THINK- a problem for later! I can handle it for now. I don't need rest or coherent, real thoughts to do things. It'll pass over and I don't need to run run run run runrunrunrun. I sit and stand and… suddenly it’s 4:30A.M.
