Songs of My Journey: 2015, I’m a Fucking Superhuman, You’ll See!

It became established prior to march that I’d possibly had manic episodes. Last year in the summer prior to my depression I’d had a brilliant period where I’d had a well being epiphany. Everything was wonderful, and how could I not see how brilliant the world was before? And how amazing was I? So I made a website, and I danced, and I sang and I built a platform for me to showcase how amazing I was. – it has since been deleted.

Then there was a brief spell in November. I was joking, I was laughing and every speckle of life, down to each crumb of my sandwich and the way the sun shone, and how that bird hopped along the floor was just DAMN. FUCKING. AMAZING.

And then I believed I was invincible. I made wreckless decisions, sent everyone videos of me singing and dancing before trying to jump off a car park to prove I would bounce.

That’s the moment it stopped being fun. I was cuffed, sectioned and carted around London in caged vans under Section 136, then a Section 2. To begin with, my admission didn’t bother me. I was too busy having fun, singing, dancing, chatting crap, making expressive art and playing football.

I’m telling you now, I was fucking ace at singing and I could have won X factor hands down that month. The poor poor souls around me, enclosed within the walls of the psychiatric unit had to listen to rendition after rendition of Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran. Fuck me, I could even do the dance to the video: seriously, where’s the skill in that? I’m acing it after an hour! (Sssshhhhh…. I wasn’t acing anything. I was manic)

And so my diagnosis changed, and these songs are the soundtrack to my manic episodes.

Les Jours Tristes by Yann TIersen was once again written FOR ME, and no-ne else.

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