My words are a canvas that molds my experience into a window that is familair enough that the unversed and uninitiated can finally gain an intuition into the world that the other people live in. People who wake from beds of pain every day in search of short term relief for problems that can never be fully fixed, for illnesses that can never be cured. I am the bridge of empathy, i hold the keys to the midnight nation

My bipolar disorder has given me a great gift, the gift to paint the words of my experience like a canvas into the minds of others; a gift where i can shape and mold my experiences into a window that people who have no understanding of a concept so alien and foreign, can finally find some familiarity in. And in that sense, gain an intuition into the introspective experience of the pained human condition that my community of pained brothers and sisters experience everday. Which is that: For many of us: pain is all we know; and for all the others: they dont know what it is to feel nothing but pain; and there is nothing wrong with that dichotomy, but it makes both groups feel like we cant reach the other; in my recent years i have discovered that i am the bridge between these worlds