Bipolar Diary: Being Bipolar

There was once this guy who said he wanted to swap lives with me.
He said he'd be better off if he was me.
He said my life was easier.
I smirked at the thought and ask him if he was sure...

To be me is to realize that no one you know truly understands you.
Not any of your friends, not any of your family, not even your doctor.
Yes, some people go through the same experience as you do.
But even if you may have the same sickness or the same disorder,
you still won't be able to understand each other.
Everything seems so chaotic, like a seesaw of amplified and twisted emotions and thoughts.
What's even worse is that you don't even understand yourself.
One moment you're happy like you're invincible;
the next thing you know, you feel like your dying.
Dying inside, unable to move, you feel like there'll be no more tomorrow and it's useless to breathe.
What's hard is that no matter what you do, you can't easily lift yourself up from that rut.
You feel like you're floatings.
And you feel like you're in between the line of sanity and insanity.
You want to run away from it, to escape and to hide;
but then again, you can't run away from yourself.
All there is is a continuing feeling of sinking but you never reach the bottom.
It just goes on until you feel numb.
It takes days, weeks, even months.
And you mumble and you complain because you want someone to listen, you want someone to comfort you,
you want to be cared for, and you just want to know if someone does care.
But what's given is not understanding but only pity.
You know that behind your back they say that you're weird.
You know that behind your back they say that you just want attention.
And in fact, you are weird and you do want attention;
because you want to let them know that you're not okay;
because you want help and you think that at least someone might cheer you up.
But most of the time, all you get is stare of disgust
because they think that you're just being a drama queen, that you're overreacting;
and they slowly back away.
Rarely does someone listen, but when they do, they give advice that never actually suited the situation.
Because they think that they know you, they think that it's easy.
But it's not easy because you depend on medications to live an almost normal life.
And even if you already took a thousand pills;
you know it only serves as a disguise but never the cure.
Because there ain't one.

What hard about being in a struggle is knowing that you are on your own.
And you struggle not just for your sake but more for the sake of others.
For the sake of your friends, most especially for the sake of your family.
Because you don't want to be any more of a shame to them.
Because you don't want the money that they spent on your sessions with your doctor and for your medication to do down the drain.
There would be a time when you don't really want to care anymore.
When it wouldn't matter what happens to you as long as you don't struggle.
You want to let loose, you want to let anything be;
to abandon your sanity and be carefree.
But when you see them you stop because you know that your comfort will bring them shame and despair.
So you just wear a practiced smile.
And you hold on to whatever shallow piece of happiness you can come across;
a crush, a dream, an ambition just to stay happy.
You hold on tight as if it's a lifeline,
because you know that a sudden downhill fall might come.
And no matter what happens, all you need to remember is to be normal.
You need to be normal, you have to be normal.
You just have to because that's what is acceptable...

After I asked him if he was sure,
he stared into my eyes and paused.
Then he said, "Never mind."