Diary of a Bipolar Artist

Bipolar - In My Own Words

From a personal conversation with a friend a long time ago:

It's like your mind is a hurricane, or torrential river. You're standing in the middle, trying to be the calm of the storm. You want to grasp on to something, but every time you reach out, its torn away from you in an instant.

That is my struggle every moment of every day. It's a waking nightmare. I cannot even begin to express how terrible it feels, to be lost in your own mind, you be out of control of your own thoughts.

It leaves me crippled and frustrated. It makes me hate myself and curse my own mind.

This beautiful mind that used to create some wonderful poetry, now can't focus on the most mundane of tasks.

To the point that I've become a delicate flower. Threatening to wilt at any given moment if the wind changes.

I know how resilient I am. But I also know how frail.

You rarely hear it over Skype, but I actually stutter a lot.

I stumble over my own words, I get confused by the meanings.

Words are my only power in the world, and they often elude me.