A Story For All Of Us


apartyMania is rich with almost-entertaining stories of bravado, of haphazard action, of disobeying most laws, of discarding sexual partners like “he loves me, he loves me not” petals.  But to a Manic, his/her episode could last years resulting in an incoherent swath of personal wreckage whose repetition finally drained even a mother’s irrevocable devotion (tucked in the coffee can behind the flour); The Manic loves a great party yet never buys a round.  The Manic’s desperate all in bluff with a pair of five’s causes a stumble, then a slip, finally sinking to Mania’s Skid Row: rancid, broke, estranged, lost, and nameless.  Until Sanity emerges from her safe place dragging you past leering, inflated, lobby guards who toss their opinions about each other like outfielders in a softball game.

alowlandSanity does her best to shield Mania from their sickening taunts; too late: liking to the daring distillers in Scotland (less than two %) who cross the authority of majority by bottling their whisky unfiltered and unadulterated, Mania scoops up her life’s residue and bits of character and leaps over the guard stand tackling two and beating the outspoken guard screaming, “However I am, I’m still human!”  It is said three guards and a janitor finally regained control and thus depositing Mania somewhere deep within the bowels of Sanity.

At night, seconds after bedroom lights dim, from somewhere very near or very far, Sanity faintly hears Mania’s outcry, “However I am, I’m still human . . . “ascottishgirl

One thought on “A Story For All Of Us

  1. Yes, it sounds so true. Often one’s life seems to be the label manic-depressive or CHF, whatever. When it all done and said, we are human beings. I don’t know if I am going crazy but think whatever is happening with me will soon be my demise. Difficulty breathing, feeling o.k. for two days then nothing.

    Scott

    Like

Comments are closed.