Oh So I Am Hypomanic Again.

I am hypomanic again!

It seems to happen every two months.

The music rips chunks out of my brain and fills me with euphoria.

For the first time since I was seven years old, I did some calisthenics.

I had an abnormal interest in sex, when I hardly do each week.

I am listening to slow music, even, and it feels ecstatic.

I can only write short sentences. I wanted to write phenomenology, but that sounds horrific… And I want to preserve this good state.

I suffer enough, anyways. Let's keep the good things going while they can, right?

To be bipolar and to see and feel the world intensely, both intellectually and personally: to prefer a real hell over imaginary heaven (Weil).

A mostly cruel composition, but the good parts feel redemptive in the moment.

Of course I will fall. And I will feel depressed again.

Ourobos. My personal slice in the eternal human destiny.

I feel like a sick miser for suddenly offering help to the people I abandon, only under a hypomanic fever.

Morality of this?

Probably bad.

Everything will be ok!

Maybe.

Surely?

(Listening to Hop Along - Texas Funeral)

Something directly for you, and only for you, and only to be read by you:

Much of life is pain. Suffering is not redemptive. It simply is. Redemption lies only at the miracle of our humanity: conscious meaning-making. The vertical axis: call it grace or whatever you want.

I truly hope you never need the vertical axis.

If you do, the only advice I have: accept that all that happened necessarily happened (as all events in the event log are), but you have the capability to work through the vertical axis and reconstitute yourself.

Just know that such an endeavor is painful, disruptive, and might lead to the unthreading of your being.

Please only do this if you have material security.

There is nothing I wish more for you than a stable base.