I was part of two worlds in that moment. I was that lost and desperately sad me from 10 years ago, but at the same time was my 43 year old self living a life. A real and meaningful life, where the coat of armour has been replaced with a useless rain mac, but one which allows the real world to seep into my soul.
Bipolar? You suck. You didn’t try to kill me with a devastating suicidal depression. You didn’t turn me into the invincible, wreckless hypomanic being you sometimes do. You just were. You played with me and seriously tainted yet another precious time in my life.