Well, it’s late and I’m tired, but I thought I’d write for a little while.
Dealing with bipolar depression is not an easy task.
I sometimes find it hard to do the dishes, let alone plant a rose bush,
and yet I get up and do it and somehow it gets done. I’m focusing on
my poverty and want and lack
and trying desperately to focus on the happiness and goodness around me.
But I get mad..really angry, deep down.
Which turns into sadness.
And that fuels my fear.
and fear is no good.
But all good means boring.
And boring we must not, can not, could not have.
To have a happy life.
It’s a cycle.