When You Stop Believing in Death During a Bipolar Episode
What’s left to be scared of besides living?
Just Human
I feel mortal today. Not superhuman. Not dead either. Just a guy struggling to get by, much like so many others. There is no cape under my clothes today. I can’t even save myself.
There are times when I can fly. It feels that way, anyway. My mind takes me to distant universes, and I am limitless. In those moments, anything I dream will come true. All my greatest fantasies will become reality. Nothing will ever stop me.
It’s unfair when it ends. No one should have such positivity pulled from under them like a cheap rug. The high is too high. Nobody can survive the fall. Not in one piece.
Man, if the depression afterward wasn’t so bad, and I had control of it, I’d stay in that hypomanic state forever. Just getting things done and dreaming big. No matter what went on around me, I’d be happy. I’d always be smiling, and I’d know exactly who I was and where I wanted to go.
Mortal me’s plans are always more boring. He’s not looking to change the world, but to pay his bills and do what he loves. He struggles with decisions. He’s not sure things are going to work out.
