... colors aren't colors and the air feels different when I am in this state. It feels stale. Almost like there is no air at all. Like leftover air. Here and there. Tiny puffs of clouds of oxygen that will soon dissipate. And it doesn't scare me. I don't care. I still prefer this to terror. As awful as this is. I can always sleep for days. Terror incapacitates you and takes away your ability to escape. You become a prisoner in your own body. You can't even trust your own senses. Heat might be cold and everything might be a delusion. I wonder if I will die in a fire one day because I believe it is sand or confetti or something. That would be a pleasant way to die. My last thoughts would be that I was on a beach enjoying myself in the sun or at a party with friends that I made up. I wouldn't mind terribly being totally insane. This half-way thing is a bit horrible. Watching myself be insane and being aware of it is kind of the worst thing that can happen to any human.
On April 27th, I woke up and I felt it. I felt so alone and isolated. I felt like no one in the world knew where I was or how I felt. I knew the depression had come, and the mania was over.
Today I cried for over an hour to the point where I was dry heaving on my floor. I have not been this upset in a long time over anything and I feel really shaken up. Through a number of techniques I have been able to feel better and to keep myself together but it feels like everything is falling apart.
Cimmy's job in her household is to keep things clean so people like jaklumen don't trip over them and get hurt. She also has two kids one eight, one three.
A new booklet with a selection of quotes from 
