I spent the last two days angry. I didn’t take the important half of my meds and I hadn’t slept much. Woke with crazy brain and headaches. I don’t have the fun bipolar where you spend half your time drunk and singing and making bad business deals. I just hulk out and shoot electricity from my ears and get strange notions about the wind.
Eventually I wore myself out and took my large white pill. I spent this morning lying face down on the couch, bitter as the beer my brother tried to home brew that tasted like soda water and asparagus piss. When it got to the point that I couldn’t breathe because my airholes were cut off by the leather couch seats I turned my head and swore for a little while. After my fit subsided I heard a ticking noise.
I looked on the floor and saw a brown beetle on its back with its legs waving in the air. I stared at it for a little while, trying to will its tiny soul out of its body. I felt bad for thinking that and decided to help it. Not moving from my position, I got a remote and tried to flick it over. I just ended up pushing it violently around the floor. I felt even more guilty. There were a broken pair of scissors next to the remote. I opened them slightly and tried to use them as a spatula to flip it over. It didn’t work. There was a thick celebrity magazine on the floor so I pushed the beetle up next to it and tried to use it as leverage to flip it over. I got it up onto its side and got excited. I tried to flick it up over the edge with the end of the scissors and pushed the points right through its poor little body.
I got up after that. Made some coffee and had a shower. Cleaned my room. Apologised to as many people as I could. There are deeper, darker things in the world than my brain. Other people have better problems.