Hypomaniac, Insomniac Dreams

You’re in the next room sleeping and I’m shouting out a song for you
I shouldn’t wake you over the furnace, but I should swear to someone you’d have loved every note
So dream a good one tonight
I’ll listen to the bad ones when they come
Get up in my ear ’till I hear every word
Every turn of your tongue, I will tighten my grip”

–One Hundred Stories/Alkaline Trio

It’s a rare occasion when I realize that it’s begun, the hypomania. It’s a rare occasion that this exuberance is pounding in my chest so hard I could burst with life.

It starts out like a breath of fresh air. After months of doubt, insecurities, anxiety, numbness, it starts like a breath of fresh air.

The colors of your eyes are brighter, the colors of the skies are brighter, even in the darkest night. The shapes of your body are in focus and I can taste the very essence of human connection.

The music isn’t muddied anymore, bogged down by depression and anger. The music is crystal clear, the lyrics resonate, the punk rock vibrates through my veins.

Conversation is easy as the words pour out of my mouth like a waterfall, too fast to comprehend and I trip over my own words. I beg for stimulating conversation. The words flow freely from my fingertips, the words want to be cradled and held.

I’m preoccupied from my burning cigarette and the stench by the beating of my own heart. It’s stealthy and sped up when I wasn’t looking, while I was attempting to dream.

I tossed for hours, my dogs, my boyfriend, sleeping silently beside me. I gave in to my excited state by blaring the music in my headphones and turning to putting my rambling, scrambling thoughts to paper.

I embrace the mania, I welcome the chaos. It use to make me reach for the dope pipe to keep the edge up or the silver edge of a knife against my skin to bring me back down. But I’ve learned to turn this chaos into creativity, I learned to let it unfurl into beauty.

It’s not the mania that scares me. It’s not the insomnia that scares me. It’s not the chaos that scares me. It’s when I crash that scares, when I’m back to being bedridden and full of fear.

So, for now, I’m going to ride this untamed wave where it takes me, hoping I’ll fall on my back and not on my face (again).



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