Dear Host: A Letter from Your Bipolar Disorder

Hi Matt,

You probably don't remember inviting me.
Well, to be fair, most don't.
I was quiet at first, perhaps just a white noise in the background.
Yet still, I exist.

Your chaotic brilliant creativity, I'd love to take credit for that.
And your quiet, loud, nothingness silence? that's me, too.

Yes, the 3 a.m. wake up in the middle of the night and a sudden burst of energy, that's my signature move.
The midnight stroll with headphones on while it's raining and no one's around, you probably know where I'm going, don't you?

I know you knew all along.

I was devastated when I found out you went behind my back and that you were trying to get rid of me. Therapy. The pills. A lot of pills. Do you remember?

You thought you could fix me. You thought I could be erased with a prescription and a pep talk. But no, Matt, that's where you're wrong—you can’t fix what’s part of you. I'm as much as you are.

I know you’re tired of the swings, the extremes, the highs and the lows.
I know you feel out of control sometimes, like I’m pulling the strings, and you're just a passenger in your own life.
But I want you to see that it’s not about control.
It’s about understanding, about finding balance.

Remember when I took those punches, Matt? That was genuine and I'm more than glad to go through it again for you.
I'm here and will always be here. We don't have to fight.
We can coexist. We can learn to live together and out to the world as a team.

You’re not broken, Matt.
You’re just learning to live with all the pieces of yourself.

.....

That's all I want to tell you, or would have if I had a voice of my own.
I hope you don't hate me.
All the things I've done, all the things we've done, weren't because I hated you, but because I'm built this way. I don't know balance. I only know extreme.

Talk to you later,
A Friend