The Borderline
Martine Rose
It’s incredible, the speed of the switch.
I’m insignificant. I can’t do anything at all. I am the worst, the ugliest, least talented, least capable …
And then my brain decides that it’s had enough and switches sides.
I’m magnificent. I can do anything. I am the best. The prettiest. Most talented. Most capable.
It’s black and white. There is no grey, no colour. Hell or heaven. Depression or mania. Depression gives no hope; mania is saturated in it.
I’m suffocating. My lungs are drained, and I can’t fill them. One breath would save me, but I am gasping.
People say, ‘You’ll be okay.’ And I know that’s true because I know Soon enough my brain will switch. Once again feeling like God.
I’ll dye my hair blue, Pink, or red. Give myself a piercing. Get a tattoo. Permanent decisions to fix a temporary state of mind. The mania controls me.
If I had to choose one, I’d choose to be manic. It’s not ideal. But the euphoria of mania beats the misery of depression.
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