I never in a million years imagined that illness would take over my life, but looking back now, it's so easy to see that it did. I have been finished school for four years and instead of spending those years working towards a degree, I have gradually slipped and fallen victim to my disorder.
I had many moments where I envisioned great things for myself - enrolled myself in courses I never finished, dedicated myself to full time jobs - these were the highs, the mania. My level of impulsiveness is astounding. Combined with a lack of sleep, I've decided I wanted to be a photographer, a make up artist, a teacher. In those hours, everything seemed possible. Sometimes the state of delusion lasted for a few weeks, and I'd embark on whatever particular challenge I had in my head... but of course, nothing was ever completed 'cause eventually there'd come the low.
The depression that has blighted the last number of years has often left me bed bound. I'd suddenly lose interest in the outside world, and just stay in bed and when or if it lifted, well, I always thought that it was too late to try and fix anything.
I don't know how I didn't see my life crashing down around me sooner. I don't know how no one else saw it either. I feel so incredibly guilty. Guilty, because all I ever wanted to do was... everything. I'm just so sorry. I am so, so sorry. If I could make it all better, make myself better, I would. I would do it in a heartbeat.