the manic person

the manic person had no time for mistakes, yet always made too many. their urgency led to reckless and entirely avoidable error, and while the manic person knew this with every fiber of their being, they could not bring themselves to access the part of their brain that stored that important kernel of wisdom. they would follow their misguided gut to the devil's doorstep with vigor and haste, and had done so frequently before. the inclination to act on anything felt so great at times that they often found themselves in the midst of a great mess with no plan, no solution, only an intense desire to be doing something. this usually caused a great deal of strife for the manic person when their mania invariably subsided and they were faced with the consequences of their behavior.

the manic person, or 'sticky fingers,' as some might say, felt entitled to most things and rarely ever remembered to ask. as you might imagine, the social repercussions of existing within such a paradigm were layered and many. the manic person did not quite understand why. as far as they could tell, most people felt entitled to whatever they wanted, whether it was within their means or not, and they didn't have to feel bad about it. they would manage to procure their desires, one way or another, generally without asking, but still in far more palatable ways than the manic person, such as exchanging currency or gifts. the manic person knew of two conflicting truths and gleaned from the dissonance of their coexistence that nobody should care, because nothing really matters. truth number one: private property purchased by a consumer is more sacred than god, heaven, or earth here, and to take it outside of your means? a veritable offense. truth number two: possession is nine-tenths of the law.

the manic person resented the word 'thief.' to them, the splendor of the world and all its resources should be accessible to everyone, whether they can afford them or not. food, water, and any reprieve were not a privilege reserved for those from affluence and means, and the manic person lived accordingly. the carnal urge to take what they wanted and not consider any legal repercussions for themself or trifles like 'ownership,' weighed heavily on them. fight it they may, but they would always resort to taking without asking when things got desperate enough. whether it was food, weed, money, or time did not matter; they were all the same to the manic person, resources to use in a beautifully shared world.

the manic person, or the saboteur, as they were also known, spent a great deal of time making decisions that they knew they would regret later. in fact, much of their life had been dictated by the rapid cycles of mania and depression, which had caused them to apply for jobs, schools, scholarships, residencies, pet adoptions, mentorships, and anything else that sounded fun or dopamine-inducing without any consideration for their stable or depressed self's preferences, energy levels, or capacity. eventually, everything they applied for would fall to the wayside. on the off chance that the manic person did manage to follow through with any or all of the things they signed themself up for, they would be met with unrealistic expectations from those who thought the manic person was presenting a sustainable front. the manic person's lack of self-awareness would always bite them in the ass when it came time to commit to anything; they didn't know what they could actually manage and always overextended themself, leading to burnout, shame, and social isolation. people came to know the manic person as an over-promiser and unreliable person.

the manic person was certain of things they couldn't possibly know, an oracle, they wore their truth like skin. whether it was idle gossip, flagrant misinformation, or simply a failure to fact-check, when they were wrong, they became a chameleon, changing the colors of their claims to fit the scene. their dishonesty was apparent to everyone but themself.

the manic person despised qualities in others that they often exhibited themself, unfortunately, due to the lack of self-awareness previously mentioned, the manic person did not see their hypocrisy. double-standards were the name of the game, but whether the manic person was harsher on themselves or others entirely depended on how much sleep, water, and food they had consumed that day. the manic person did not recognize this pattern, however, and quickly soured relationships and connections because they couldn't tell the difference between not liking someone and not having had enough to eat, or not liking something about themself and being dehydrated or fatigued.

the manic person often romanticized their struggles, feeling as though their pain and suffering might amount to something meaningful or inspire something important. they thought that they might write something significant someday, and that maybe, even after death, their brilliance and talent would be recognized and be the catalyst for some great change– delusions of grandeur and all that.

the manic person thought their disorder was a set of personality traits for so long that, though they now have a diagnosis, they still spend a great deal of energy trying to parse out what is illness and what is quirk. they have, thankfully, come to learn that the particular set of conditions comprising their environment and impacting their diagnosis and treatment most are there to maintain a certain level of functionality that best serves productivity and empire. the manic person has also come to learn that productivity does not equal worth, and that they shouldn't measure their health or wellbeing based on standards they were taught while young, far too young to discern for themself or possibly know the long-term harm they were inflicting upon themself. they see now their financial trauma very clearly and how it has informed their inherited, and at this point, prolonged poverty. the manic person could have just taken the cushy desk job that pays 75k+ a year, that comes with benefits and paid time off,

except they couldn't do that. not really.

because it would have killed them, slower and in more profound ways than physical death or anything else they could ever do to themself. and that's really saying something.