My brain is faulty. The wiring is jumbled, circuits firing off-kilter and others inexplicably dim when I least expect them to.
Happy turns into borderline manic, driven, then poof. No amount of sleep is adequate. The minute and significant tasks feel equally impossible. The body and mind ache to return to bed even when sleep persistently taunts the corners of your mind, just out of reach.
You see the wonderful bits of your life dancing in front of your eyes, fueling the shame that comes with depression. Cycle again. Push through the impossible to get back to happy.
