Dealing With Bipolar Disorder

For all that’s left in my wake, I hold onto hope. I cling to it like a tiny captured ember. I curl up and gently blow on it, trusting it will be ready when a piece of kindling happens to fall into the pit. I hope those closest to me understand. I hope they won’t leave. I hope they know how much they help—even when I can’t show them that they are. I hope I don’t lose my mind.

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