Do you ever have a hard day and realize that when you need them most, you have no one to turn to? Of course you don’t. You’re not a monster. You’re not the poorly grafted Frankenpersonality. The hideous abomination wrought by that most unholy of afflictions, bipolar.
You’ll be fine. I’ll be alone. Coping, or at least telling myself that’s what I’m doing.
You’ll be misunderstood and spend much of your time alone. It will be frustrating. You’ll second guess yourself. Thinking over things you’ve said and done, knowing that some are definitely questionable. Therefore wondering if the rest are contributing brush strokes in painting a horrible picture. This is of course a waste of time and an exercise in vanity.
You will never truly belong. No deep and lasting connections. Mostly obligatory social interactions. This is as much to do with your personality as it is your disorder. Though, from whence comes your personality? You were a sweet child and adolescent. Even very kind and sociable throughout your teens.
People who should know you, know about your disorder, still misunderstand you. They are surprised and upset by your behaviours or impulse issues. Which hurts your feelings, creates distress and rifts between those who would be closest to you. Therefore your depression comes all the more easy, you are the most isolated and ostracized person in the world. Totally alienated from everyone, nobody ever making the extra effort to include you. To reach out. To let you know that you are loved and cared for. Because you likely aren’t.
Your sense of genuine attachment or connection to other people begins to atrophy. You drift further away from humanity. Your own sense of belonging to the species eroding. Messages of decisiveness and hatred filtering in from social media and news outlets. Misanthropy pervading your very being. Nihilism becomes you. Soulless. Suspended in darkness, peering dispassionately out at the swan song that is the human pathogen as you prepare to egress. Mutate. Next evolution.