i’ve got a short memory. it helps. it hurts. i forget that i’m supposed to be “ill.” i forget that i came up with a ten point plan to live a better life. i forget.
my name is steve, and i am a momentary being.
my bipolar dictates as such, no matter how hard i try to fight the good fight. i’ve only got spare moments to complete a task, outside of the hurricane woosh of hypomania.
sometimes it’s a charming quirk, like suddenly remembering that the office is closed for a three day weekend. sometimes it’s not so charming, like when i’m trying to string together effort to complete a task. in this manner, i am the stereotypical bipolar flunkie. lots of projects started, none completed, you know the drill. i really hate admitting that i am stereotypical anything, but it’s true. some of the stigma is borne of truth.
i run through synaptic walls on a regular basis. my pain tolerance for such things is pretty strong. they should write songs about it, like old ballads about jumping into a giant pit of social anxiety and coming up smelling like roses. this, however, is not a matter of pain tolerance. i’m thinking it’s something in the physical structure of my brain, how it functions. i can’t fist fight something that is ingrained in my fists, in the very footwork i’m using.
i can’t define a word by using the very word in the definition.
i’ve been trying to beat this forever. i always fail, because i lose interest and move onto something else. i have two separate base timeline perspectives. because my presence is located at both ends of the conscious circular spectrum, i am at both extremes. one has my focus drifting into the waves of eternity, into the expanse of timelessness. the other has my attention span at that of a caffeinated squirrel. they coexist by taking turns.
generally it goes that i think up some great idea or have some spiritual experience, a butterfly floats by and suddenly i’m thinking about basketball or fruit flies and the relation of their life span to my attention span. or something like that.
i am not built for traditional success. i manage to keep this blog going because i can take a moment out of the sky and write about it within thirty minutes or so. i imagine you’re tired of hearing about my book. i’m tired of talking about it. it’s just hard to string together consecutive moments into something greater.
i will get there. i will succeed, if for no other reason than i’ve got thoughts that need to be expressed. the drill is still the same. i cannot be free until i am tabula rasa.
i cannot be free until i have emptied my mind.
i will be free. if i cannot fight it, i will outmaneuver it. i will be free. know this.