As someone diagnosed with Bipolar II Disorder, it is hard to make people understand through words and I think that it would be better understood through visual imagery.
While we were all waiting for the elevator to reach the 15th floor, I catch my best friend looking at her reflection in the mirror. I don’t know if she has realized it yet, but she has grown into a strong mature lady compared to the first time I met her in grade school; a fragile flower who couldn’t wait to bloom. She worries constantly about finding security, whether in finding the one or finding the dream job. Like her, I want to gain more of a sense of who I am.
My friend, Dustin, is a free spirit and many times also a lost one. Through great coincidences, we always end up talking to each other at opportune moments when we are both bogged down by problems. Many times, our conversations are more silence than actual talking. Our nights always seem to be colored by things peculiar and bizarre, but this may be because we are still young and have yet to experience the things that will harden us through our adult lives.