I Will…

I will make it. I will make it right. I will dominate the disease. I’ve been stable now for weeks and I know it’s feasible to stand, to stay on the edge between the A side and the B side. I will not be bipolar anymore. Maybe it won’t be easy, maybe it will be rough, but I will struggle and I will win. I won’t fall into the trap again; I won’t turn manic. When I exit the clinic I will achieve my goal of running 50 km alone — I’m training every day and I’ve already designed the route. I will assist the Suede’s concert in Paris in April. I will work again. I will be able to progressively lower antidepressants. I will love Sylvestre and I will support her and maybe we will spend our life together. I will find my friends again and/or I will make new ones. One day for sure I will die but I won’t suicide because of my bipolar disorder. I will learn from the past and I won’t fear future all the time. I will even dominate my bipolar disorders’ comorbidities (see them enounced here)…

“Let’s hope I will not like the forthcoming Fishbach record?” I wrote at the end of my 7 January’s post (“From Dog–Man Underwater To Stars In An Eyelash: The Logic–Magic of Bipolar Disorder”). She did it. She heard me from the past. With Avec les yeux, she delivered the most awful opus I could imagine. I hate her and in the same time I love her because by choosing straying onto all but what I was artistically expecting she has prevented mania invasion in me. Will I go and assist her concert at the end of April in Rouen? If I don’t succeed in selling on the black market the tickets I bought months ago, probably — standing at the bar and waiting for new interpretations of the songs from her previous album À ta merci… But I don’t need any Goddess anymore. God is in the stars. God is in the sky. God is in the music. God is in me.

(…) I will remain insane anyway.