today my diagnosis of bipolar disorder type one feels like a death sentence. a noose around my neck choking the life out of me. I finally unfurled out of my depression into hypomania so we tweaked my meds accordingly only for me to plummet to depths I know all too well. today I feel broken. absolutely shattered to an innumerable amount of pieces. the kind that are ground to dust. plumes of smoke that will never quite make a whole again. that Margaret bright eyed and bushy tailed is no more. now I live from second to second surviving each day as it comes. trying to not expire. except I have no will power. not an ounce of strength left. yes many have it for me but I do not have it. this is no way to live. it's not living. to be a husk of who you once were. unrecognisable in every way. to mourn who you are as you live and breathe is a cruel irony. so much wasted potential. fading away to obscurity. I don't know what this is. I don't know who I am. but I know that I'm tired. exhausted in every way and fed up. what is even the point. I'm no active participant in my life. I just exist. nothing more yet something less in every inconceivable way. until I became indiscernible. I am merely a host that occupied by this disease rotting me from the inside out. I'm no active participant. my decay is exponential and excruciating because I not only feel it happening I see it in the reflection of those around me. which only fills me with guilt. a guilt that is unrelenting suffocating me to my core. bipolar disorder is burying me alive and I do not know how I survive this.