Thursday, May 26, 2011

Moody, mercurial with depression that smoulders, hidden at its very roots ~ that's me.
Bipolar type 2 sometimes makes me a thing of air and passion, frivolous, whimsical and then, suddenly, grim and contrary. A type of rare quicksilver, am I. Most mornings, upon my waking, That Heavy Thing presses its darkness into me, trying to vanquish all the light in my soul, until I feel so very listless and downhearted. And so I languish, dragging myself into activities of the day; sometimes I can do nothing but languish. Until nightfall comes, and lifts That Heavy Thing away from my spirit, which then becomes rapt with joy, and resistant to slumber, knowing that, sometime in the darkness of my slumber, That Heavy Thing will visit, and sit itself stubbornly upon my heart. And thus, the cycle repeats itself.


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