Fighting

It seems like I am always fighting.  Fighting the depression monster from taking over.  Fighting mania from happening or getting too out of hand.  Fighting stereotypes and stigmas.  Fighting ignorance.

I wish for one day that I could rest and not be fighting anything.  One day to not have to worry about routines and what other people say and think.  One day to just be myself.

Then I start to wonder who I really am because all I’ve ever known is the fight against depression and bipolar disorder.  And I will always be a warrior.

Tonight, I will crawl into bed, shedding every bit of my armor, hoping to rest so I can awaken and fight the beast that is depression for another day.

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