Beginning Insanity

Good morning minions. I'm posting from bed as my fiance sleeps soundly beside me and I can't help but envy his peaceful face. My thoughts have been tremulous these past few days, swaying wildly between joyful exuberance for a bright future and utter dread at the intuitive notion of impending doom. I've been suspended in time for the past few months, like a mosquito caught in amber. I've been waiting for my idleness to lift but it clings to me as if I'm the most desirable wench in the universe. Some days I long for death and others, I feel the first inklings of joy. It's confusing, what this disease has done to me.

My psychiatrist has changed my medications so I am now navigating the impact of his capricious decisions. I'm exhausted and hyper, enraged and lethargic. My head feels light and my thoughts are horribly disconnected. I feel drunk and often forget my train of thought in the middle of a story. It's embarassing and I find myself avoiding friends and conversation with people other than my parents and my lover because I know that I can count on their love regardless of my unpredictable behavior.

Some who stumble upon this blog will undoubtably think that I am merely undisciplined, that I cease to fight this illness and simply let it wash over me like a wave over sand. Perhaps there is some truth to that. Sometimes, I think we all get tired of fighting, of treading water, of running with weights attached to our heels while so many stroll without burdens.

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