"Why do I feel most alive when I am in this state? When my soul is pulsing with passion, hurt, envy, pain… every gut wrenching emotion that pours through my veins, my arteries, my core? Why do my eyes feel wild? Why do I feel out of control? Like one second I want to laugh hysterically, and the next there are tears flowing down my cheeks? Almost catatonic, some would say. Numb stupor interspersed with psychotic, excited outbursts. Sometimes there is a lot of light… other times there is a lot of grey. Not dark, just grey. Gloom, doom. No hope.

"It’s like when I am happy, I am dead. I don’t feel anything as well as I feel this. And these times are impossible to predict. They are always instigated by one thing, though. Art. Creativity. Emotion. After I thought I’ve become just numb enough, it all rushes back… the feelings of emptiness and despair, the nine to five I can’t escape.

"Times like these, my eyes are wild. I am not my mature, responsible self. I want nothing more than to run away, to flee everything I have ever known, in favour of a more creative lifestyle. I want to live in sunshine, to run free all of the time. I want no responsibilities. I don’t care about money, or possessions.

"And then… just when I think I’ve hit the extreme of crazy… it’s succumbs again, and the numbness sets in once more… and it’s over. The very psychosis that made me so happy, so chaotic, and so melancholy with EMOTION for such a short time is gone. And I am the empty shell I’ve always been.

"And mostly, I am left to wonder... can you ever understand?"