Before maina, I was strong.
After mania, I didn’t feel strong anymore.  
Before mania, I had everything,
After mania, I looked around,  it was all gone
Before mania, I  always knew what to say.
After mania, what I wrote or spoke only invoked worry and fear.
I went from being just me to being famous, but only to me.
Eating and falling asleep could’ve saved me, but I just couldn’t do it.
I was too sick to know I needed help, and getting help was the only way home, so I couldn’t go home.
And when that’s all I wanted was to go home. It would be the hardest part..
In 141 days, I must have walked 1 billion miles, but I was too scared to ever sleep.
Lithium and family helped me make sense again, but did nothing to heal the invisible wounds.
What once was a quiet walk felt like combat, always looking over my shoulder for the attack.