A Glimpse Into My Bipolar Mind

My mind is buzzing, my heart is racing, the blood is pumping through these blue veins.

No control over thoughts, just words slipping out of the body that is called mine.

I see people talking to me, I hear their faint voices, their concerned tones, but what they are speaking isn’t clear. The world is a fog and my headlights are out. It is raining and I have ran out of windshield wiper fluid. I am a car without the emblems. A map without markings. Just lines and shapes that are seen as a body, with a soul attached to it.

This body of mine is pulsating, unsure of anything at this point. I am very confused as to why I am here and why life is this way. Why am I in school and why should I get married and have a career? Why shouldn’t I talk to strangers? Why shouldn’t I run out on the street with these lines and shapes of mine, no clothes covering them? I just don’t understand the reason we are here on this earth and how people just accept it.

My heart is beating even faster and my boyfriend is texting me. What is a boyfriend? What does that even mean? Break up with him. I know I will look at this tomorrow and be amazed by how absurd this all sounds. But this is mania, I am on a roller coaster that won’t stop. I am a ghost sitting in a seat of Superman, going around and around again, over and over. But with each loop and turn I feel higher. I take the seatbelt off. I feel free. But also what if i die? What is dying? Who even am I? I pull a leg out of my seat, it’s dangling over the edge. If I wasn’t already a ghost some people would be very alarmed.

This is mania.

I don’t know if people look at me like I’m someone on a roller-coaster without their seat belt on. I think they might. I like being manic though. I don’t want to crash.

Crashing feels like darkness. Crashing is the roller-coaster getting stuck upside down on a loop. Everything is still. I suddenly am the only one on the ride. I don’t even care that the roller-coaster is stopped. I just wish I could sleep while hanging upside down. I wish this roller-coaster would start up again so I could go fast, be high, be free. But I am stuck — my arms and legs are now shackled to the seat, my seat belt is strapped on. I am safe, but I feel nothing. I am a shell of a body. Just these shapes and lines connected to form a person.

I wish there was a way for me to be on a safe roller-coaster, seat belt and all. That way I’d still feel alive but others could keep up with me and I could be in control. I don’t know how long I’ve been writing for. The roller-coaster seems to be slowing down. I am scared about this fact, but I know that my new medication will put me into a pretty little sleep soon. I will inevitably wake up on another roller-coaster — whether its stopped or sped up, I must be prepared for the ride.

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