My plan was to take a whole heap of valium and wade out into the sea until it became so deep that I’d need to swim. To swim as far as I possibly could, until exhaustion and the valium kicked in. I wanted to drown. I wanted to die.
I wouldn’t change the good times in these past few chapters, naturally, but having thought about it a lot, I actually wouldn’t change the bad times either.
Then came some actual real life interaction with the mummies at the school gate. As in, proper interaction. Relaxed, controlled, and dare I even say it, enjoyable chat. I think I even made eye contact at one point. Today was a good day.
The emotional weighing scales in my DNA seem to self calibrate of their own free will. And living with bipolar inexplicably grants these scales permission to tip at any given time.