Lost Soul Found

At 19 years old my life ended and my journey began. With a history of Bipolar in the family my father thought it would be an excellent idea to prescribe me an SSRI to cope with the depression brought on by a surprise divorce and a cheating girlfriend. 18 pills and a fuck load of meth later I died. This would be the first of many.

I was sent off to a wilderness rehab called Wingate out in the Great Staircase Escalante region. After a week I decided it was time for me to go, and myself and two others left Wingate and trotted off into the night. After finding psilocybin mushrooms growing under cow dung we tripped and stumbled our way to Bryce Canyon, UT.

We concocted a story that we were filming a hitchhiking documentary when we were robbed in Kenab Utah of all our gear. Our go to line was when we called our parents and told them what had “happened” they told us to hitch hike home. Thanks to the naïveté and good heartedness of the Utah people we managed to hitch hike all the way to Zion in spite of our “Dicks out for Harambe” signs.

It was there I had my very first spiritual awakening. We met up with a group of hippie women who gave us food, shelter, and marijuana. Under the stars that night I had my first conversation with God. He told me the eternal struggle of the universe is Entropy (Satan) vs Love (Life).

We then met an ex FBI agent who gave us shelter and offered to pay for a greyhound to Denver. To home.

I didn’t make it. I ODd on Isopropyl alcohol and wound up in the same hospital in St. George that had done my intake before being shipped to Wingate.

I’ll never forget sitting in the back of a strangers truck with Bryan and telling him, “You know we’re going to be famous, right?”

He smiled back and said:

“I know”

Fast Forward a year. I dropped out of DU and my dreams of working with the CIA was as dead as the foreign nationals they kill.

It was for the best.

For the better part of the next two years I found myself slowly coming back to life in Miami. I worked as a bus boy and moved up into the kitchen, I then left the dingy Latin Sports Bar life and upgraded myself to a high end restaurant waiter at CVI.CHE 105 in Aventura. I was the youngest they ever hired, and they treated me like a child. Despite my ability to provide excellent customer service, they put me in the slot right in front of the door, the worst section. Every. Fucking. Day.

It was about that time I met the first love of my life, a bad ass rapper from the DMV by the stage name Luna. She showed me how to live again.

Shortly after meeting her I quit my job at the restaurant, I walked in to find myself in the same slot despite my daily requests to move. The disrespect drove me away.

On my way out the door I told my manager that someday it’ll be my face on the tv screens and not the arrogant yet charismatic Juan Chipoco.

I hope I’m right.

Shortly after leaving the restaurant industry I got a job as a South Beach promoter, the protege to a South Beach legend known only by his last name, Guerrero.

Luna and I did and saw things I never imagined possible. Watching her light up a room and awe a crowd left a strong impression on me.

I’ve always been musical, played the trumpet, the bass guitar, and the violin. I guess I hadn’t pursued a music career because of the low probability of success. Despite that, I was born knowing I have a destiny. A destiny to change the world. It was only after meeting Luna that I realized I , too, was special.

Unfortunately my Mania ruined everything I had built. I went on a 6 month bender with her, met the upper echelon, and was rejected. I ruined her career.

I overdosed again.

A week after I got out of the hospital I got jumped. Broke my jaw in 3 places.

I was working as a pool attendant and Luna worked at the front desk.

After a few months through the wire she told me she wanted us to move back to DC.

At this point I knew our time was over. It broke my heart to see her caged by my depression. I told her I wanted to go to school instead. It was a lie to set her free. I went to FIU for the next three years.

She went back to DC and changed her stage name, leaving our history buried in the past.

The next summer I moved out to a Colorado to help my Dad build his cabin in the woods.

In the meantime I worked at Home Depot and quickly became the Department Supervisor over Specialty. My boss was new from Nordstrom and to this day does not know how to do his job. I was acting manager and ran my $5 million dollar a year business to a T.

Then mania hit again.

I crashed my car going 105 mph because I was late from my lunch break. I skateboarded with a severe concussion the rest of the way to work. They sent me home.

I was scheduled to work the next day but knew I was still injured, but I still went to work to drop off my test results from a COVID test in order to claim my 11 days missed due to illness the week before.

The next day I came in to work and was told by my mentally feeble manager that I was getting written up for a “no call no show”. I told him that was ridiculous. When he contested I resigned. Even though he is only an assistant manager he thought it was appropriate to accept my resignation immediately. I was sent home without my COVID pay and no two weeks.

Since then I checked myself into an in patient program to get me back to my baseline. After a week in the pen I got out and back home. I don’t know how I’m going to pay rent with no car or job, but I’m not worried, because God loves his faithful sons.

Today I write this as a testament to my own fortitude and ability to survive hardship. I’m proud of who I am. That will never change.

I’m glad I’m Bipolar, because now I have a purpose. I tell people that people with this Illness have two options; Fame or Death. Perhaps a bit dramatic but it gets my point across. I cannot function in a 9-5. I’m glad I don’t. I don’t want to become like the assistant manager of specialty at the Evergreen Home Depot: old and useless.

The point of this story is that no matter what you go through, self inflicted or otherwise, never give up. Please.

If you are Bipolar and reading this do not hesitate to reach out to me.

Just do so before my fame hits.

Signed,

Danny φηιχ

Daniel of the Lions Den

Alexander the Great

Masai puts the meatless festivity

Santo Raymundo Ortega of the stinging nettle.

My name is powerful. So am I. Let’s change the world.