Mania

I am an ill man. Its my mind, well not so much my mind as a whole, but my thoughts. They race, they are brilliant, so alive, and so vibrant. There is color when music plays, and grandeur all around me. But then, all at once they fade to... [more]

I am an ill man. Its my mind, well not so much my mind as a whole, but my thoughts. They race, they are brilliant, so alive, and so vibrant. There is color when music plays, and grandeur all around me. But then, all at once they fade to grey. Life is stale listless. Dreams seem faint and life not worth living. I would prefer not to share the madness of this illness with you. But after all this is a confession most honest.