For Me, The First Sign Of Oncoming

We Turn Skeletons Into Goddesses And Look To Them As If They Might Teach Us How Not To Need.

But New Love Only Lasts So Long, And Then You Crash Back Into The Real People You Are, And From As High As We Were, It's A Very Long Fall, And We Hit The Ground With A Thud.

If I Had Been A Different Sort Of Person, Maybe Less Impressionable, Less Intense, Less Fearful, Less Utterly Dependent Upon The Perceptions Of Others - Maybe Then I Would Not Have Bought The Cultural Party Line That Thinness Is The Be-all And End-all Of Goals. Maybe If My Family Had Not Been In Utter Chaos Most Of The Time, Maybe If My Parents Were A Little Better At Dealing With Their Own Lives Maybe If I'd Gotten Help Sooner, Or If I'd Gotten Different Help, Maybe If I Didn't So Fiercely Cherish My Secret, Or If I Were Not Such A Good Liar, Or Were Not Quite So Empty Inside... Maybe.

All Of Us Carry Around Countless Bags Of Dusty Old Knickknacks Dated From Childhood: Collected Resentments, Long List Of Wounds Of Greater Or Lesser Significance, Glorified Memories, Absolute Certainties That Later Turn Out To Be Wrong. Humans Are Emotional Pack Rats. These Bags Define Us.

There's Childhood And Early Onset Bipolar, But It Transitions In Your Early Adulthood Into Something A Little Bit Different, And Extremely Severe. It Was At That Time That My Impulse Control Just Went Out The Window. Impulse Control When You're Manic Just Disappears.