Being manic and knowing you're manic is like being a genius aware they're completely stupid.

I feel like the most brilliant creature, like I could see the moon as someone the size of the sun would see it if I thought hard enough. And I probably could.

I feel so grandiose that I loathe it. I know it's all chemistry and neurons and I feel so fucking retarded. There is nothing quite like being brilliantly aware of your mania.

It's...a little like Charlie in Flowers for Algernon, knowing that he would return to stupidity.

Thing is, no, I'm not stupid. I never am. But I know I am no genius. Yes, I have stumbled upon well-known philosophical questions on my own. I am more intelligent than most. But mania just...it gives me overconfidence in my intelligence. I hate it.

I could write a story, list a trillion brilliant songs...I've done it before. Then I'll look back and see how looney I appeared, my mind like a Cabbage Butterfly's flight pattern.

I could do anything right now. Or I feel I could...but...it'd be naïve.

Dear spell-check, that is the proper way to spell naïve. Thanks.

Can I please know normal. Not mixed, depressed, or manic. Just...none of them. :/

Save me from myself.