Some days I think about my life in terms of each day…each 24 hour increment. The depression side of bipolar causes every minute in those days to be almost intolerable.
If I don’t stay totally busy, I mean non-stop activity of some sort, I start thinking about how long each day is when you’re just doing everything you can to hang on.
I begin to wonder how many more minutes I can convince myself that it matters if I stay.
Sometimes my mind goes so fast that I feel surely people can look at me and see my scalp wiggling, moving across my head as if it contains some trapped animal.
I believe that might be my brains way of not getting too close to the scariest question:
How much longer can I fight what seems to be the only ending to this story.