And now a little secret. A tale told out of school. Something I share with everyone else who has my illness. I loved it. It felt great. I mean really great. Why else would so many Manics refuse to get treatment? They get hooked on their highs.
Can you remember the moment in your life when you felt the very best? Was it the day you got married? The day your first child was born? The day you scored the winning touchdown for your high school football team? Remember how you felt. Now double it. Keep going until the settings are turned up all the way to ten and your nervous system is buzzing like high voltage wires. Every pleasure center you have is glowing, you could burst into flames at any moment.
Now add a few more elements. You’re incredibly strong, incredibly smart, and your energy is limitless. It gets better. You’re totally without fear. That tiresome little voice, the nagging conscience, is dead. You don’t care who you step on on the way up because you’re not coming down. There’s a separate set of rules for you, you’re a Greek god, lightning explodes from your fingertips.
Submitted by alistairmcharg on