I feel terrible. I am unsure if it is because of my recently failed relationship. But I'm sure it is a contributing factor. And for the fact that I get extremely affected by what affects my loved ones.

She suffers from bipolar disorder. Before I knew her, I never thought much about the illness. Like many others, I shrugged it off as 'mood swings'. As if its name alone explains the entirety of its severity.

Bipolar disorder is a monster. A thief.
And potentially a killer.

It tramples on your bed when you try to sleep.
It takes when you have nothing left to give.
It convinces you that your struggles are futile
and therefore your fate to be ***** by it.

Growing up, we had oppressive childhoods and felt caged by our country's culture of - study, career, ****, die.
We needed to feed our minds with more.
We needed select experiences that gave us euphoria and stopped
only when we could no longer
describe our emotions with words.

She was a creative mind. A spiritual poet whose aspirations lie in understanding the human condition. I remembered I was an aspiring musician turned designer, hoping to create works that could stir another's inner being. We had similar beginnings (It was as thus we were attracted to one another in the first place. We were creative people who did not fit into this realm of being a cog in the wheel).

But while she fully embraced her anguish and fought the circumstances,
I fully embraced the circumstances and fought the anguish.

Unlike her, I did not suffer largely because I have managed to disconnect myself from my emotions. I suppressed them all in a box and would never check its contents. And it has dulled me.

I was just another creature before I knew it.
I shelved my dreams to conform to the norm.
I lost my individuality and became
less disappointed by the system.
I hardly felt joy as a result,
but at the very least,
I could function.

And hence when we first met, while we believed we were two peas of a pod, we were starkly different people.

Our principles differed.
Our beliefs collided.
Our outlook on life were polar.
And these only became apparent
after all the sweetness withered.

We were toxic to one another.

As our differences and the environment were sapping her vitality,
she had to leave the relationship in order to retain her sanity;
while I smiled and wished her all the best
in denial.

I could not bring myself to embrace the pain openly. Partly because I loved her dearly and did not want to hurt her any further. And partly because I was afraid of what demons would surface from my box if I were to lift its lid.

But the box was no longer big enough to house them. With my ex-girlfriend's own fight as a catalyst, I started recounting the steps to how I became what I was today. Slowly, they were seeping through the cracks.

I began questioning why I was working
a job that I had no passion for.
Why I was willing to fall into debt so that I can pay
for an apartment in a country I had no love for.
Why I indulge in activities that further dull my mind;
The pain of my girlfriend leaving me did not make me wish to take my life.
But this did.

These long unattended sentiments began dusting themselves off and started becoming clearer.

They began tearing at my adopted self.
The two sides are scraping and stealing as I speak.
I was lost.
What then is existence now?

I have no idea who I am.
I have to find myself before death
finds me.