The Bad Magic Dust

Last night, as I was lying down on my best sleeping position, I stared upon our bedroom window. The light outside passed through it's glass which made the room half-lit. It was the only light that made that dark room glow before my eyes. The sight struck me that I was alone again regardless of the presence of my family beside me. I was alone in the sense of fighting my own battle. It has been a week that I have been submerged in my own prison, another irrational depression.

Deep in my darkness there is also this light from a window, the light which gives spark to my little hopes. "How long will this last? How long should I hope?" these made me ask myself if it was worth it. When will I know that I have to stop hoping? This battle would last a lifetime, would last forever. There was nothing we could do but hope until I get cured.

All we could do was hope and pray.

My pillow was soaked in my tears of sadness. I hold tight to it as if it was my child. If I was God, if I was its mother, I could not bear to see my child suffering. I would hug it close to my heart to let it feel that this battle was not to be faced alone. I would protect my child with my life, that is what I would do. But where is my God?Where is my mother?Where is my protector? Should she be here tonight tucking me into bed, caressing my hair and assuring me that everything would be alright.

Waking up today wasn't better as it was yesterday. My head is throbbing and my eyes are sore. Busy people keeps on coming in and out of our house. I suppose I was the only one not busy with normal things. I was caught up in a higher form of analyzing. I was busy trying to keep myself from going all "cuckoo" and end up at some local mental hospital. My brother and cousins are as annoying as the lead role of the film I'm watching. Whoever made the film I was watching, I wish he'd kill everyone at the end of the movie. It was all too stupid and too scripted. They always get the happy ending when in reality they all die.

Looking at my silly relatives and hearing them laugh at stupid jokes made me even furious. How could they manage a laugh at a very low form of idiocracy. How could they enjoy and have fun when someone was already dying from the other side of the world. How could they take everything less serious. It grew me even mad, worst than madness could tell. I want to tie them down and tape their mouths to silence.

My little baby dog starts barking outside and it just adds up to my uncontrollable temper. I rushed to him and seized its snout. I pulled its collar up choking him to death. He stared at me and I realized I was killing it. I was a murderer. I let him loose and went inside the house crying. I didn't dare to look back. What have I done?Am I mad already?.

I took a shower assuming that this madness was somewhat like a bad magic dust sprinkled all over me. I was hoping that I could wash all of it away. I stood there wet and crying. I keep on telling myself "I am not sick. I am not sick". But who am I fooling? I know I was. This Bipolar disorder is getting everything I have away from me.

it's getting everything I have away from me

People would say its nothing compared to cancer or AIDS. But NO! It is worst than that. Those other conditions are diseases which weakens the immune system. This one doesn't just attack and weakens you. It takes command entirely over your body to go against itself. It is a threat not only to self but to other people as well. It takes away your God-given gift of free will. It takes away your virtues and your beliefs. Bipolar disorder has less been taken seriously. You would say it is all in the mind and it's a hormone-related stuff, a trauma bullshit. But those who suffer from it, like me, dies and suffer like cancer patients too. It is a killer and a thief.

Besides being self-destructive, what I'm totally scared of is when the time comes that I would loose this battle; let my love ones die in my own hands against my free will. This killer in me is what I am trying to keep locked up. My meds are piling in a heap. Every pill is important to keep me sane.  But sometimes those pills fail too. And every time they do, I always hope that I and my God won't fail the same way.

Tadz