Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
One night I lay down and looked up at the stars and wondered "where the fuck is my ceiling?!?!
People with bipolar disorder are still people. They are still just as wonderful as they were before contracting the illness. What’s so tragic is that the illness can mislead us into thinking that our loved ones are no longer worth loving.