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Better is Worse: Hypomania Ascendant

Hello darkness my old friend...

Shut up. No one likes it when you're like this.

But you've come to talk with me again.


Fuck you.

You sound upset. Haven't we been doing well?

That's the problem, asshole. You do remember that we're bipolar, right? Hypomania, dramatic mood swings, crippling depression, delusions of grandeur? Sound familiar?

There's no call to be crass. So I've been a little upbeat - what of it?

Don't you remember? You've been here before. Everything feels great. Everything is coming up roses and sixes and aces and shiny new pennies head-side up. You try to forget that I'm here, and I always make you pay for it.


That sounds like a threat.

I apologize. It's not. We're both here, we're both ALWAYS here, but when one of us is ascendant we choose to pretend that the other does not exist. And, as happy as you feel right now, you need to remember me. We're sober, we're getting a lot of good work done, and despite the crippling nightmares we are well-balanced during our conscious hours. But you know that it won't always be like this. And you know that it's still not even close to recovery. It's not enough to be you - it doesn't work like that.


I know. "For I know that time is always time, and place is always and only place, and what is actual is actual only for one time, and only for one place." But-

And here we go-

I really want to just savor how it is right now, and not be worried about-

The next time we crash? You know that it's coming. The longer the calm, the bigger the storm. You're better than this. We're better than this.


You're just upset because you're losing.

Oh sweet merciful Christ go FUCK YOURSELF. If either of us are losing, we are both losing. If either of us lost, we'd be lost together. All I am asking is that you have a little perspective. You know that we're stuck together for the rest of our lives. You know that your smugness, your supercilious superiority, and your absolutely puerile na-na-na-ing of the other half of your disease is merely fuel to me. I don't want to do what I do, but sometimes you force my hand. Don't you remember-


Stop. Please don't. I'm sorry.

Very well.

You're right, as always. But I am preparing for you. Instead of being used by hypomania to make drastic, life-altering decisions, I am using it to clean house, to move, to buy books, to do chores and to make decisions that have to be made. I hope that by preparing for you, you might hurt us less. And perhaps if we both prepare for the other, things could be calmer. Maybe you could also remember that I'm coming back, and not leave us in such a mess when I do.


Until then.

Always a pleasure.

"Adieu, adieu. Remember me."

Now you're doing it.

But when I do it, it's funny.

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