The Good

Memoirs of a Manic Mind vol.4:





They don’t believe me… heartbreak to me. In whichever decree in pursuing betterment for me, I have offended the people in control of my health by trying to better myself. Now the mutiny is on me and I don’t know what I have done to deserve such scrutiny.

The painful truth is… Now! I feel like I’m more bipolar than ever. Under watchful eyes, I’ve had a breakdown then a major breakthrough.

I feel the worst type of grief realizing I have shaped altercations with friends, peers and loved ones. Just to distance myself from prying eyes. Hoping no one would notice I wasn’t doing alright… and needed help.

With that being said I am grateful for the help I am receiving.

I don’t know which duality weights heavier on my contemplative mind. The realization that I don’t have the support I desire. Or the fact that I put myself in that position because I didn’t want anyone there to help… so I ostracize myself.

I’ve always had a certain demeanor passable as charming or funny. But among the top 10, you wouldn’t assume  I’d be someone hiding a “mood disorder” no… I’m bipolar and they don’t believe me you’re reading my verbal plea.

For a long-time, my illness has shaped my reality creating falsities and extremes of reality.

I recently lost touch with reality which to my mind has only happened once before (or at least that I am aware of). After not sleeping for a few days you enter a delirious state, and I feel like the results would be similar for anyone. The difference is it just happens to me. While most would probably need a stimulant.

The problem is I’ve been doing this type of rapid cycling for so long it’s become my normal (or reality), and like most, I have become used to what’s comfortable to me.

In the pursuit of treatment, I’ve been prescribed lithium to keep my chemical imbalance stable. It’s been months now, and I still don’t know what that feels like. But I do know what the scrutiny of personal opinion of equality vs. equity feels like and how it impacts my life. I now feel the reality of how I have been painted in societies eyes. I never knew what someone not worth saving looked like until my life needed saving.

I don’t understand why they can’t see past my filter: black mirror s3 e5: Men Against Fire.

For reference. I am a human being if not a living being which should mean I’m worthy of help.

Passive aggressive me please hear my plea. I’m painted as an ignorant human being for searching for help. I don’t need a cure. I don’t have decease… I’m not curable. Who I am is vital to my identity. What I need help with is dealing with the two neurological extremes tearing my life apart (ie: mania & depression).


Kyle Paul Profile


Just another Good-Guy

I owe a lot to numerous amazing teachers that have sparked a passion in me, by helping me find my gift, I always had a lot to express, and well... writing was the most constructive way to express myself. Typical delinquent behavior turned good guy vibe. Turns out my struggle is my gift, and life experience has given my words flavor (mocha).

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