Mixed states?

I can’t sit still and can’t find anything to do, having finished a million projects today and now I am filled with an insatiable appetite for anything physical. Sex, food, violence, motion. I forgot how strange a trip it is from starting medication to the phase where you are balanced again. Crossing all sorts of strange valleys, strange depressions and strange manias. The med has done enough to drag me out of depression but not enough to make anything feel right.

This leaves me pacing like a wild animal. All instinct, no intellect. Normally, in this state of activation, I’d write, but my cognition is still too slow to do anything like that successfully, my mind is still depressed. So instead, I pace, clench and unclench muscles, feel cagey like an animal. Eat apples again and again – something about their crunch is satisfying, raw, the just-right substrate for my fangs. I feel like prowling the streets, looking for sex or a fight. I feel like growling and hissing.

And, unpleasant as it is, at least when it is unsatisfied, I am not altogether sure I want this feeling to end. It feels like me at the core, stripped away to my most raw, untrapped by drugs, society, identity. While there is no place for this person now in my life, my location, I wouldn’t want her to disappear forever. I just wish I knew what to do with her, what she needed, what she is trying to say.


1 Comment

  1. No matter how destructive or self destructive, I am always loathe to let go of any taste of mania. It’s like a drug. Free and empowering. If you ever run out of apples, try carrots. Crunchy ’till the last bite.

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