When I woke up this morning, it was a good day. I was happy. I felt good. I have just returned to college and feel a sense of pride about making that happen. I played with my son. I read a good book. I spoke with friends. I laughed.
It's 10:30 at night and I'm painfully aware of the regrets and unhappiness I carry inside of me. I feel a bitter sense of disappointment about the things I haven't been able to accomplish. I look around me and I see people doing and being the things I thought I would be doing and being when I was this age. It makes me sad. It makes me lonely. It makes me a little angry.
The irony here? Tomorrow morning I will wake up and I will feel fine. I will know that what happens happens for a reason and that my life is good the way it is.
I hate Bipolar Disorder.