Those nights. The darkness. The silence. The nothingness. The feeling of not existing. Those mornings. The light. The noise.
The clutter. The existence. Night versus day. Sadness versus happiness, or too much happiness. Depression versus mania. Why can’t I be the afternoon?
Somewhere in the middle. In the middle of the silence and the chaos of everything. I’ve found life with bipolar disorder is that feeling.
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