I lay in bed a lot, it’s sorta my thing you know. Late nights staring at my phone, hoping for a slumber that isn’t coming. Bipolar has this stigma around it, this idea that we constantly change our personalities and feelings. That we are essentially crazy. I know if people could just understand the singularity of our minds, they wouldn’t judge so hard. I am living with this illness everyday. Everyday I think I will be ok. Bipolar never fails to break that notion. I am consistently sad, except the rare occasions when my mania hits. Those few hours or sometimes day are like the most effective drug in the universe. Pure euphoria. That’s the problem though, when you come down from that drug, that high, it’s like death. So I am constantly agonizingly suffering a death, while my brain chases the high.