On bipolarity

Everyday when you wake up you have a choice. You can notice little miracles around you or you can just ignore them.

I’m addicted to little miracles. To the dogs’ eyes, sound of leaves under my feet, lovely vulgar messages from my friends.

I’m so scared now. I’m so scared and so lost as never probably, but these little miracles are what keeps me alive I guess. I cry too much but I also laugh too much.

There was abundance, overflow of desires, now there is nothing. All or nothing. No way in the middle. I guess I will start anew again and there is so much beauty and so much pain in that, so much self-destruction and self-adoration. The loudest people suffer the most, some say. I’m not the loudest but when I shout it’s because I am talking to the wolves in my head to stop consuming my brain. Cause I am still alive and I might need it still.

I am so terribly tired, I am exhausted. I am so excited, so over-everything. I am too much and I am not enough. I am yours, his, mine’s. I am nobody’s. I am everybody’s.

But maybe tomorrow I will just laugh, kiss you and say it was all a joke.

Why don’t you take me seriously?