The Perils of Mania

He who gives a book gives more than cloth,
Paper and ink. He gives more than leather, parchment, and words.
He reveals foreword of this thoughts, a dedication of his friendship,
A page of his presence, a chapter of himself,
an index of his of love.
There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in the kind of madness that plagues one with bipolar. When you’re high it tremendous. The ideas and feelings are fast and too frequent like shooting stars. You follow them until you find bigger, better, and brighter things.
Shyness goes, the right words and gestures are suddenly there, they power to captivate others are certainty. There are interests found in uninteresting people. Sensually is pervasive and the desire to seduce is irresistible. Feelings of ease, intensity, power, well-being, financial omnipotence and euphoria pervades ones bones.
But then, somewhere it all comes crashing down. These changes. The fast ideas are far too fast and there are far too many; overwhelming confusion replaces clarity. Memory goes. Humor and absorption on friends faces are replaced by fear and concern. Everything previously moving with the grain is now against you is irritable, angry.
Frightened, uncontrollable and enmeshed totally in the blackest cave of the mind. Caves you never knew were there. It goes on and on and finally there is only the recollections of your behavior….your bizarre, frantic, aimless behavior….for mania has the grace of partially obliterating memories.

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