Wings of Wax – Bipolar Disorder by FibroSub
This is my bipolar
This is the curse of bipolar. Sometimes I long for my mania, other times I fear it. When I am manic, I can be full of energy, productive and bright. At the same time, I can be paranoid, sadistic and as vengeful as a Greek god.
It’s the crash I fear the most. Returning to normal or worse, the depression.
The depression is like being the victim of that same god I felt I was. Suddenly, I am being punished. I am like Icarus flying too close to the sun. I come to realize that those wings that carried me to such euphoric heights have now melted. I fall to earth, either hitting the ground with a force that leaves me shattered, or the loam of this planet swallows me whole.
Everyone experiences this disease differently, but this? This bipolar is my bipolar. My mania is like soaring with wings made of wax. You never know how high you will fly, where you will go, or what you will see. The only thing you know is that you will crash. Where you will crash, when, and how hard is a mystery.
If you are lucky, there will be no collateral damage. I am not sure that you can even call the result of mania “friendy fire”.
The fIight of mania is like being a bird with wings that don t obey, and wind currents you cannot predict. All you know is that the sun is hot, the ground is hard. On any given day of your life, you and your wings of wax will encounter both.
My best advice to you? Learn how to fall and fall with style.