Hair

I always wear a hat to sleep because if I don’t my hair will stand on end and I have to get it completely soaked to even try to get it back to normal. But this morning was different. I wore my hat to sleep, knowing that when I woke up I would have flat hair that wouldn’t look like I got electrocuted. I woke up, took my hat off, and there it was – my electrocuted hair. I tried every goddamn thing to get my hair to stop sticking up. I used water, a hat again, my brothers’ pomade – yet nothing seemed to work. This is what I get for cutting my hair short. This is my penance. 

This morning my family and I were going to go on a hike in the Rockies. And I knew damn well I was going to be burning a shit ton of calories, therefore losing at least a pound or two. I tried to convince my mother that I didn’t want to go because I didn’t want to lose the weight (I needed my privileges after going on this fucking camping trip). she didn’t budge. My bipolar brain freaked out because I wasn’t getting what I wanted, so of course, I did what any manipulator would do, I fucking manipulated her. I told her I wouldn’t even go on a walk around this fucking lake because I was mad. I told her if I lost weight it would be her fault. She didn’t budge. Of course, I felt bad because she loves to hike and loves nature. but I didn’t. I sound like some grippy teenager who didn’t like to be disconnected from their phone. But that wasn’t it. I just didn’t like not getting my way. And I didn’t like walking up a mountain just to see a fucking lake. What was the point? I’d been up this trail three times. Why would I want to see it again?

The fact of me being bipolar is non-negotiable. Mostly I was textbook bipolar. manic episodes that made me stay up all night, binge on drugs, be very happy, but also very mad at times. Depressive episodes where I wouldn’t shower, wouldn’t go out of my room, wouldn’t really care about much really. But now that I’m drugged up on antidepressants and antipsychotics – they weren’t as bad. But boy did I miss my manic episodes. I missed feeling on top of the world and feeling as though I was untouchable. now my manic episodes consist of feeling happier than my usual apathetic and boring demeanor. 

“I like your hair.” A boy came up to me looking very tired. 

“Are you being sarcastic?” I knew my hair was sticking up. 

“What no.” oh. 

“Thanks then.”

This was the worst day ever. I had to climb this fucking mountain just to see a lake. Yes, this lake was beautiful in every sense of the word, but I had already seen it three fucking times. And I wasn’t trying to lose any more weight. 

I was walking up the trail and letting my mind wander. Day-dreaming about a life I could’ve had if I hadn’t let my depression control and change my life. Depression is a parasite. It embeds itself inside your brain, it’s smart that way. It convinces you that life is not worth living. That things are worse than they seem. Life has no meaning and you’re just on a rock floating through space.

That’s all we are – a tiny human floating on a rock.