Entry 7: Manic Panic!

It's liberating, writing without rules or restraints. Every word that falls on my tongue I immediately spit out, unfiltered and nasty. No need to think about stanzas, rhymes, fancy words in a language that I've been programmed to learn through a broken school system. No need to think that I need to be the next Maya Angelou or Rita Dove, two women I very much look up to and, of course, so dearly wish I could mirror. But my time isn't now, and perhaps it will never come. Am I okay for it to never come? I'll pass on that question. 

There is a brand that specializes in crazy and "aesthetic" hair dyes, Manic Panic. Never really thought anything of the name, it was a bit edgy and definitely cool, but I didn't think about what it actually meant. Now that I've experienced true manic panic, not talking about the hair color, I've finally grasped this state of mind. For someone that has never experienced mania, I both envy and feel sorry for them. It is the best - and worst high.  A natural narcotic for the mentally ill. It made me create endless weekly schedules and plans, engage fully in extensive and innovative projects, it made me exercise 7 days a week for hours, it made me study french and korean, it made me vulnerable. So many times it hijacked me, yet I never got to know its character, it always seemed to catch me by surprise, and each time it passed I forgot it ever happened and moved on. That is the manipulative nature of mania, a perfect example of how your brain can totally screw itself over. 

 Each time it hit me, I thought I was rational, that I was in control. I was the driver that stepped on the gas pedal in a brand new (insert insanely expensive sports car) and felt the adrenaline pumping in my head, ears ringing, eyes totally focused on the white road markings that passed me like asteroids, experiencing fear and almost orgasmic elation concurrently. 

Except, I was never driving the car. I wasn't even in the passenger seat. I was trapped in the trunk, totally blind and unaware of my surroundings until reality let me out and kindly let me deal with the consequences, which would always bring mental downfall. Anxiety, depression, hopelessness, destruction. And in the crossfire between euphoria and depression is where you will find manic panic. You know what's coming and you fear it so deeply, yet the feeling of overwhelming joy drags you forward, whether you like it or not. If one wouldn't panic then, I wonder if they're truly insane, or contrarily perfectly sane and well kept, a person that doesn't beat themselves up on the daily. 

I'm willing. I have to be willing. Unscrew myself. Make Manic Panic a brand for hair dyes again.