I haven't been sleeping.
Every night at 3 I wake up.
For a week now.
This is bad.
This is mania.
Mania is coming.
I need to get sick.
Need to get away from people I can hurt.
Mania makes me sick.
Mania is worse than depression.
Mania gives me the feeling of flying.
The feeling of greatness.
I don't want to hurt Emily.
I can't hurt Emily in manias grip.
Please don't let me hurt you.
I beg.
I will try to push everyone away.
Mania makes me social.
As soon as mania begins to leave my body depression takes over unless I get lucky.
If I'm lucky I'll be normal.
Neither will take charge of my body and I will have control for a bit.
Rianna says be yourself.
How can I be myself when I'm controlled by two little things.
I'm not mania.
I'm not depression.
They latch onto me and control my every move.
I can't be myself in their present.
I'm going to be social.
Then it will change and I will have extreme anxiety.
This is bipolar.
Bipolar.
Mania.
Depression.
My bunk mates.
My new buddies.
Yet old friends.
Controlling.
Me...