Every triumph, no matter how great or how small, will be bitter-sweet from this moment on. Nothing is free. The guilt consumes me whole every single day of my life. I cannot escape it…only in the brief moments that I am writing or doing artwork, does it seemingly disappear. But I cannot possibly keep up with that level of production only to lose the race against my rapid-fire brain…every single time.

To those of you who thought that my manic episode was a sign of suffering, I have something to tell you. THAT was NOT suffering. THAT WAS OBLIVION and as the old saying goes….

Ya, the consequences, the aftermath, the PTSD, the memories, the bullshit depression…THAT IS SUFFERING. AND THAT IS ONGOING. THAT MAY NEVER END, unless god willing, a lubricated mind is to swallow me whole someday in the form of mania. It’s really ironic that when we enter the ‘depression’ stage that everyone assumes we are better…we are healed…we are stable.

I live in either of two worlds it seems. I don’t know that I even know what stability is anymore. Maybe I never knew.

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