Run Run Run

Two nights ago, I decided to make a dramatic life change in the next three weeks. I was so certain it would work out and I knew I would make the right decision and I just knew and everything inside of me knew and it was so exciting and the world was so exciting and et cetera and et cetera. Hypomania was terrifying, a voice inside my head pushing me over the edge, to places I wouldn't normally go, lurking in broad daylight with theories and beliefs and worldviews quite unlike those I hold in a less manic state. Thankfully, I recognized that I was hypomanic. I feel sad, reflective, and angry when I have to censor myself in these moments, as though part of me will always be Peter Pan, flying off to Neverland with no wings and inadvertently leading the Darling family straight to a gang of pirates.