Wrote this in the morning after not much sleep:
Insomnia sucks, but at least when I can’t sleep it means that my brain is very active, which means that I am particularly creative. But creative at a very fast pace, bouncing from one thing to another and composing too many half-thoughts. A typical case of hypomania, a trait which is harmful but which I never want to lose. I think it was partly brought on by the classic March weather we had yesterday in St. Louis, gray and blustery. The day before, we reached 80 degrees. Much rejoicing, but I don’t want to skip over spring. Yesterday was what March is supposed to be, a diaphanous lion’s body sailing through the sky.
A big thought I kept having was this is a medical condition. The strange way of craving and demanding attention. Many of my human interactions happen in some sort of cartoon in which I feel in control of the relationship. But then I suddenly lose control because this isn’t my movie. Everyone experiences the collapse of expectation. But if you’re being a cartoon for too long, then you’re going too fast and too far, and you’re going to be jet-lagged. Once I lose control of the relationship, or of the day, I have to deal with the consequences of my behavior. I’m attempting over and over again to take the blame for something that seems so unreal, something that totally transcends myself. In theory it would be magically easy, under examination, to tell someone that all of this is part of a medical condition. I’ve been taken to the hospital in the middle of the night because of this. I’ve been humiliated because of this.