Balance.

Frank.

I have a little man living in my head. I mean, I don't - I'm not delusional. He's just a voice that I talk to. Again, I'm not psychotic. He's like the emotional, irrational part of my brain. I call him Frank. Frankly, Frank is a reactive, paranoid toddler. He likes to argue with me about things, and he doesn't respond to logic or reason. The only way I can get him to calm down is by talking to him, soothing him until he shuts up.

That bitch cut you off! Honk your horn! Ride her ass! Yell at her, do something! Ugh, teach her a lesson so she knows to pay more attention next time, Jee-sus.
God fucking dammit, Frank, lay the fuck off. She's in just a big a rush as us. So she made a mistake - we make mistakes, too.
I don't make the mistakes. You make the mistakes. You're an idiot.
I take a deep breath in through my nose - hold it for a few seconds - and let it out with a loud, forced sigh.
Whatever you say, Frank.

Lately he's had the upper hand. There's this mood-stabilizing medication, Lamotrigine, that I take to help reduce the severity of the ups and downs caused by bipolar disorder, which I had to promptly stop taking about a week ago. During Spring Break I forgot to take my pills consistently. Sometimes I would even forget to take them for days at a time. Without structure or plans I am useless, and since I had about two weeks off from both school and work I simply didn't remember to take them at 7:30 each morning. I mean, I wouldn't even wake up until noon, and even then I'd get up and immediately head over to Chris' or Olivia's place. I was feeling fine anyway - great even. It felt like I had been spared from Frank; cured of this bipolar disorder. But, of course, it was just Frank all along. He's a clever little shit.

When school and work resumed I began taking my pills regularly again - full dose. Which is definitely a mistake with Lamotrogine. It's the kind of medication that you need to build up in your system oh so slo-owly. When Deb prescribed it to me a year prior I had to take 12.5mgs every day for two weeks, then 25 for two more weeks, then 37.5. So on and so forth until I was up to 150mgs a day. If you immediately start taking even 50mgs every day you could and probably would develop a life-threatening rash. It's called Stevens-Johnson Syndrome or something. This rash spreads really quick all over your body and it gets all red and purple and it would eventually start to blister and then the top layer of the affected skin would die and shed off. Pretty sweet, huh? I sometimes like to think about whether or not it'd be worth having skin if I never had to fall into another depression. Oh, the risks you take for a healthy mind.