The Mania

The lows are easier,

I think that’s one of the scariest things about it all.

I became used to the lows,

The suicidal thoughts became as common as the wind drying the tears on my face.

I know they’ll end,

They’re steady.

The weight comes first when I wake up on those mornings,

I know there are 3-5 difficult days coming.

Then it will end,

It has before and it will again.

The tiny voice quietly screaming in the part of my mind still lit however dimly shines enough to remind me that even though this feeling is real,

It is not my reality.

When I am manic,

There is no voice.

No tiny sliver of dark reality on the stage where the spotlight is shining so brightly it would blind anyone but me.

The world is on fire and my limits are limitless,

I feel unstoppable,

Like my energy is boundless.

I become the star of my own show and everyone else is an extra.

It’s addictive.

People inject things into their veins in order to feel as high as I do in those moments

And so I believe that I am superior.

It feels good.

The world is on fire

And I can feel it burns as it kisses my electrified skin.

I feel everything.

I am flying.

And then as suddenly as it begins it ends.

I crash,

Falling through an abyss that is worse than any low.

I stand among the charred remains of the world I set on fire

And I don’t even recall how or when I lit the match.

Everything I felt turns to dust.

Was it even real?

Did I love what I loved?

Or hate what I hated?

The mania is terrifying because it can feel more real than any reality

And when it ends,

I don’t even know who felt those things.

The mania is the hardest part,

Because I believe I’m in control.