Blahpolarblah

I know the empathy borne of despair; I know the fluidity of thought, the expansive, even beautiful, mind that hypomania brings, and I know this is quicksilver and precious and often it’s poison.
David Lovelace, Scattershot: My Bipolar

I am an anomaly. (But that’s ok cos so are you.) Let me count the ways … eh whatever, these days I guess most of what my friends would call eccentricities can be ascribed to bipolar disfuckingorder. Even my creativity, apparently.

The truth is that I had no idea who the hell I was even before the bipolar diagnosis. I’d lost touch with me about a year beforehand. And then I went head first into depression and psychosis, then more depression, then anhedonia.

And now? Is my research and reading actually hypomania?

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I’m too agitated to think properly, my memory has gone for a ball of shit.

Shoutout to whoever landed on my blog using the search term deep sea fuck.

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