December 12, 2012

The end of the run

My latest manic episode lasted eight days. And let me tell you, they were fine days. I swear, mania is exactly like speed. (Trust me on this; I know.)

The world sparkles when I'm manic. No matter where I focus my attention, I'm fascinated by what I see. And all the while, my head is filled with ideas, splendid ideas. It's all I can do to write them down before I forget them, or before another thought takes their place.

When I'm manic I don't want to eat, I don't want to sleep. It's exactly like speed. The only difference between being manic and being a speed freak is that you don't know when the high is coming.

Unfortunately, the crash is also similar. At the end of a manic toot, I feel like I'm carrying a truck on my shoulders -- like right now. And though sparks of ideas are still flying through my mind, I don't have the energy to write them down -- or even revel in them. I'm exhausted.

It's odd that they call this syndrome manic-depressive I don't get depressed afterward; I'm just too tired to act. Or is that what depression is? I have no idea, or rather I'm too tired to think about it.

All I can do is stand here in the surf of lost ideas, waiting for the next wave. Mania, come back!

No comments: