I let slip my guard, I let go of the rudder now we’re drifting in the current away from one another.

 

Brain scanning technology is quickly approaching levels of detail that will have serious implications (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

“Of all the things I’ve lost I miss my mind the most.” – Mark Twain. 

Diary of a bi-polar boy. I miss my mind. I miss it like an old lover, like a dead pet, like a now go way of life. It’s what I’m left with now that takes it toll, does it damage and then walks out of the door. Too much time alone, I think. Too much time on my own, I think. Too much time to think, I think. In the same way when you come up, the down washes over you cold. Slow to take real hold. Gradual into the blood, like a rickety old intravenous drip. Once you feel that first drop slip and mingle with the blood, that’s it. There’s no escaping. There’s no unplugging. It’s going to get a lot worse before it even tries to get better. You fight it. It’s only the start of the bag. Go easy, I’ve got this. You feel the apathy wash over you. You give into it. Like the acceptance of drowning. Acceptance that this is the end. This is it.  So this is dying. It’s slower than I expected.

 

But this isn’t death. It’s a cold loss of perspective. Perspective and that troublesome mind of mine. I think they might have run away together over a rainbow. Laughing all the way. Balanced, blissful and logical into that rainbow sunset. While I fumble in the background for my senses. For my head. For quiet. For peace. For the ability to sleep when it gets dark. My kingdom for those horses. My kidneys. My throat. My heart.

 

It gets stronger ever year. I feel it now and I find myself facing two paths. I know this. It knows this. While I scrape away the walls. Fingernails and blood. Running in circles. Trapped in the melodrama and a impenetrable plastic bubble from salvation. Shit.

Air-break, pit-straight, battleship, battle.

And I think I’ve got problems. I think I’ve got problems. I’ve got problems. Serious problems here.

 

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