I want to tell you what it's like to be a manic depressive, because no one ever told me. Sure, I saw through my grandma what being bipolar looked like. But no one ever tells you what it means, about what a curse and a superpower it is.
It's not what the majority of the population think it is: one doesn't flip moods from angry to sad to happy, to angry again like the flip of a switch. Sudden mood swings might occur in some, but that's not what being bipolar means. It means that one has manic episodes: fits of insanity or loss of contact with reality and that one has depressive episodes: absolute depression for a few minutes to potentially years. It means that if you don't take your medication, your body will revolt the change of chemicals in your brain. For me, this meant my neck would spasm and lock, painfully pulling my head to a shoulder (like the worst cramp you ever had).
It means believing things that no one in their right mind would ever conceive as true. Maybe you hear voices, or the pictures just make sense the way they're aligned on the wall, the mailman is delivering secret messages in the stamps, or the world is ending, or you're about to die, or everything just interrelates into the insanic, warped twisting of reality. For me, it means pouring over books for hours, trying to find the secret line that's waiting, like a hidden prophecy, to be read. Because when I read that one sentence, I'll finally have the answer to everything(I'm not overgeneralizing here, I really believe at times that a single sentence of some random book will give me the answers to the great cosmos).
So let me guide you through understanding how insanity can ever be a more sophisticated, pleasant choice to reality.
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