When they told me I was bipolar, I didn’t understand.
I mean, I knew about mania. Everyone who’s worth reading in the hipster scene that I so desperately want to be a part of has mania, so that, I knew.
And I knew about depression because everyone who wants to be a writer is “depressed”.
But what I didn’t understand was that these symptoms would lead me to have to spend hours of my week talking to someone I didn’t want to talk to. Swallowing a pill that made my brain melt and my words stop.
I didn’t know it meant the end of poetic nirvana or coherency. That my mind would stop working properly, that it’ll take me twice as long (or even longer) to comprehend what the other person is saying.
I didn’t know I’d want to sleep a lot more, or not be able to finish the things I could’ve finished before in the same amount of time.
I didn’t understand that what it meant was I would have to try harder to have fun at a party, or to get to the end of a book, or even just to pay attention.
I didn’t realize that who I was would change so drastically. And when they told me they were suppressing my hormonal imbalances, I didn’t understand that what they really meant was that they would be suppressing me.
It used to terrify me when I was younger, back when I didn’t know, how high I would fly, so close to touching the sun, and then suddenly, the crash. When the abyss swallowed me whole and my brain was trapped in a dungeon of intense pain that throbbed within my chest.
So I wrote myself into fluffy poetry because the only things that kept me sane were the words I could harness, and their power to transport me into a different mind-set. I used to talk myself out of danger but…
They gave me this drug.
They said it would help me feel less.
They were right.
Then, they were wrong.
My therapist says when I’m depressed I want to kill myself. He tells me that it’s normal but that it’s also just a symptom – a silent cry for help, and that by taking what’s in this bottle, I’ll want to be alive.
Because I was living before.
And what I really don’t understand is why they’re using poison to purify me.