This is actually a Diary entry. After I went back to re-read my Diary, I found this entry and couldn't remember writing it. Figured I'd post it here; maybe some of you have felt this way and can gain the knowledge that you aren't the only one...

I want to write something down, but I'm afraid it won't be as eloquent as it sounds in my head. The brain has a way of thinking that far surpasses any written or verbal words. When you have your thoughts, they don't seem to be like words written on a black board; plain white against dull black. No, I especially think in a form of 'technicolor'. Thoughts fly attached to emotion, images conjure when words and emotion aren't enough to convey a message. My mind becomes a tangled train wreck; words appear, words disappear to allow emotion, emotion relents to an image that speaks more than anything else. It's awe inspiring, how a brain laden with a good imagination thinks. I loved it; the drugs have seemed to dull the effect.
The thoughts I've had today had me wondering why I seem crazy despite the drugs. What is wrong with me? Why am I Bipolar and behaving/thinking this way? In my head, I heard and saw myself screaming in rage as a reply. The accompanying emotion was an anxious anger, and I thought 'I need things, but don't get them. I have unmelded parts of me, fragmented desires and personalities.'. After I thought this, the ensuing madness in my skull was almost enough to cause an accident; I had to continue driving carefully while trying to draw tiny breaths. I saw them all, in my head, the man 'me's' that have so far rules me. I felt disoriented, confused, and not in my skin. Disconnected. My body continued to drive, but it was an autopilot feeling; I was far removed from my physical body. And the thoughts came with strong emotion and even stronger images/memories.
This is where it starts to get very confusing, and very jumbled up...most of this isn't spot on, but it's the best I can do with the English language. I felt like I was split into two main categories. There were the personalities/people I had 'given into' and the others who I hadn't, but were still there. There was the super skinny girl who wore oversized shirts and fit in anywhere, then there was her opposite; the chunky, quiet individual. There was the bad girl, and the good girl. There was the drug user, and the straight edge, the punk rocker and the techno dancer, the martial artist and the ballet dancer. The artist and the writer. The hateful angry me, and the happy, optimistic me. The bread winner, and the stay at home mom. All the things, all the people I had wanted to be, all the opposites, meeting in my head at the same time. I had strived to be a version of them all at some point, and I suddenly had no idea who I was. It frightened me. I was a hypocrite in my own head. I had nothing I wanted or needed all because of these black and white people in my head. Was there a way to make a grey area, or to pull them all into one person? No. So I forced myself to stop seeing them, stop hearing their pleas to be heard, and locked them away again. It sucked, it hurt physically, and I still feel disconnected, like I wouldn't be allowed back into my skin until I picked out who I was. But that couldn't happen, because if I started to choose one, it felt like I was killing another part of myself and a panic would start. I am constantly jostled by the many me's that couldn't be.
I don't feel like I wrote enough about it, yet I feel like I'd never be able to write enough.
"The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them - words shrink things that seem limitless."

And that's enough for today.