Do we get better? I’m not certain. I think that we can go through long periods of being up and say, to ourselves, that we’re ‘getting better,’ and then a crisis occurs and we’re crashed and burning once again and no amount of tranquillisers can stay our fury.

My completely-not-DSM bipolar feelings tell me that I’m horrible at dealing with anything stressful and that which frightens me can send me into unreasonable bouts of depression or anger or a mixture of both.

You sound angry. I’m sorry and I hope that you won’t succumb to your anger without a fight. I don’t have any advise that would rise above the banal, just now. I wish that I was smarter. I wish that I could somehow communicate the exquisite empathy that I’m feeling. I’m just not that smart. I don’t do the virtual hugs, I don’t pray, but you seem like such a kind person that I can’t go without saying that I will write your name upon legal pad #976 and think of you.

***I was watching as you danced away***