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Reflection from February 25th, 2008 @ Age 26


I still can’t sleep.  My mind is racing and my heart is racing and I’m reading through these old journal entries and they make me want to f@#king kill myself.  I am crazy…crazy as can be!  I am f@#king crazy and I really feel bad for all the people that have gotten mixed up with the likes of me, because I’m f@#king craazzzy!  I guess maybe it’s a good thing that I hide myself from others, and do you know why?  It’s because I’m crazy!  

In all seriousness though…I’m noticing definite patterns of concrete mania and depression in my writing.  During the mania my head’s all over the goddamn place, I’m up at all hours writing, I’m often incoherent.  I can’t recall a depressed part at the moment, except obviously right now, because I have been in an extended manic period for quite some time where I am at typing up these journals.  I think about publishing all this mess—I mean I think it would be great to present an honest to god account of what it means to be bipolar, what it means to suffer from bipolar.  But I think about publishing this craziness and having people look at me like I’m f@#king crazy, and never being able to get employed again because everyone will f@#king know how crazy I really am, and where will I go from there?