I get those moments of depression when I don’t feel like picking up a pen to write. I miss the mania only for the ideas that flowed through my brain, but I sure as hell don’t miss the lows. During my lows, I would pick at every word I wrote and then sink into a deep depression believing that I was useless and would not be able to achieve those dreams. I couldn’t control it, I was my minds prisoner. These days I feel better and grateful that I survived that period of my life, but depression comes with the territory. It is what it is. I hope whoever is reading this can relate and If I can inspire you to get help and move forward then my mission in life is complete. For those who believe that Mental Illness is not real, fu*k you.