I wish I could be a character in a book.
Everything would be laid out for me. Even if my path was a bumpy and unhappy one, I would have just that - a path. All of my actions would lead somewhere and I would have a definitive purpose.
I started the day in a most excellent mood, despite being atrociously hungover. The sun was shining, it wasn't snowing, it seemed like Spring could actually be here, and I was happy. I was thankful for my range of moods even, because even with the lows I get to experience some of the most amazing emotional highs... then the low came.
It always hits below the belt. That gremlin in the back of your mind bringing up every fault and flaw you find within yourself. Finding every point on your timeline in which you didn't succeed as you had planned. Mood swings are a bitch.
Pulling the stereotype sitting on the bathroom floor a cigarette in one hand, the other holding a glass of wine, I did something different than my usual wallow in my sorrows. I told someone how I was feeling. My friends are incredible, beautiful people. We might be the most ragtag group you could think to bring together, but if they aren't the most understanding and supportive people I've ever met then I'm not bipolar (and boy do I have an official diagnosis to prove it).
So you buck up, pour another glass of wine, light another cigarette, and throw on Breakfast at Tiffany's. After all, I won't let anybody put me in a cage. Not even me.
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