I have good days and bad days. Good days where I'm practically bouncing off the walls and no-one can bring me down, and bad days where I just want to lay in bed and never ever get up ever again.
On a good day, I can't sit still. I have oodles of energy and it just has to go somewhere. I can't shut up, and I always have someone to talk to, so I talk to them about anything. I often compare a girl's make-up with mine. I like gothic make-up, the kind that makes me look like a member of Kiss. I'm always smiling, and it even annoys people, because they think it's weird.
I don't understand when people don't want to hang around me at this time. I'm very positive, and I feel like they really should take the time to hang out with me-...oops, that sounds conceited...but that's how I feel on good days. I feel like I'm the most amazing person in the world.
I'm always making plans on the good days. Plans to meet up with others or buy a hamster or ideas for new spells, you know? That sort of thing. I'm just bouncing off the walls. But just clap near me, and I can be drawn away from my plans and ideas, and forget them in an instant, and then I won't be happy. Then I'll be angry and I'll snap. I can never sit still, either because I'm hyper or furious. I get so agitated and uncomfortable around others, and this is on the good days.
Sometimes I hear things that aren't there. I hear a phantom voice, or feel someone brush their hand against my cheek, only to find not a soul is in place to do so. Even so, my brain doesn't want to think logically. It starts me off on a 'who did that?' round. I think silly things on my good days, like if you milk cow udders to get milk from them, you must have to do the same to coconuts.
I irritate other people just as much as they irritate me. In the night, when everyone is back in the dorm and I've gotten ready for bed, washed all the white and black off my ruddy face, and everyone is tucked in and ready to turn their lights out, I'm jumping on the bed, singing. I just don't feel sleepy, I feel full of energy, like I could run a marathon, even though I skipped breakfast, lunch and dinner that day, and no, no snacks in between either. My stomach may be complaining, but my head isn't. My head just wants me to run and jump and play, turn in circles and sing and shout and scream. That's also when I spend. I go to the shops a lot, buy silly things. I get my arms inked even though tattoos were never my thing, I buy chocolate bars and biscuits I'll never eat (guess that's the consequence of shopping on an empty stomach), a manicure kit, pillows, that hamster I wanted, shrunken heads and books, make-up, new quills and ink even though I already have plenty, cuddly toys and wooden ones, joke shop things and charcoal. I just have to buy it all, whether I want it or not, and I always run out of money. I sometimes 'borrow' some off my brother, Mickey. He doesn't mind though. And sometimes I say things that sound a little off, a little unlike me. Things that are likely to get me beaten up. On a good day I might spout my anti-religion or anti-establishment or anti-gay views. And then that upsets people, and I get hurt, but it's still a good day because although I'm angry, it won't last long, and soon I'll be inanely happy again.
On a bad day, things get different. On a bad day, I never smile. On a bad day, I feel like my life is over. I feel like I'm at the bottom of an unfathomably large pit and I don't like it. I find myself crying, but I can never say why. I can't think why I feel so sad, feel so hopeless. I just do. I don't want to move from my bed on a bad day. I want to lie there because I just feel exhausted. So tired I feel sick. I can barely get up, and you can tell I'm having a bad day because if I do get up, I won't brush my hair or do my make-up.
When I do get up, I'll go to do something and forget what I was doing. I'm so forgetful on a bad day. Mickey will ask me to remember something for him, and the moment he finishes the sentence, I forget what the thing was, and then I feel stupid. Am I stupid? I think that must be it, and then I feel sadder and more hopeless.
On a bad day, I'll look at something I normally love doing and feel sick at the thought of doing it, like throwing rocks or playing music. It just won't seem worth it. It won't seem worth it, I'll walk on and think I may have lost part of me in losing that activity, that hobby. That makes this strange, numb feeling unfurl in the pit of my stomach. I'm losing who I am and I feel like I can't do anything right!
I feel I've done something wrong. What am I worth? I'm sat there asking myself who I am and realising that something is terribly, terribly wrong. Worse still, whatever is wrong is my fault. I've done something terrible, but I can't remember what, so my mind cycles through every bad deed I've ever done. Especially the ones from a good day. There's no way out and I'm scared. I feel this abyss I'm in will never be escapable. I see everything and I think the worst about everything. The nothing will work out, there's no point, glass half empty sort of thing. On a bad day, I hate myself. I think I'm the lowest of the low rather than the highest of the high. I see myself as worthless and I think I don't belong. I don't belong, especially not in Hogwarts. Especially especially not in Gryffindor. I'm not brave, I'm a pathetic wimp. I can still hear the phantom voices, feel the phantom touches and breaths, but it's different this time. Unpleasant. Make me shudder. I don't like it this time. I want my mum. On bad days, I'll try and eat, I'll feel awfully hungry, but I'll just feel sick and sad and my appetite will be almost non-existent. I'll be hungry and tired, but I can't do anything about it, because I've no appetite and I can't get any sleep. I'm always awake before everyone else on a bad day, so I always know it's going to be a bad day.
On a bad day, I don't want to be there. I don't want to be anywhere. I've wanted to take my life on a bad day before. I knew it wouldn't last forever, but the bad days were all too common.
Then there are normal days. Days where I'm very quiet and sleep normally. Days when not eating from before catches up with me and I eat until I think I might be sick. Days when I'm not hyper and crazy, and I'm not miserable and depressed. I spend most of my normal time fearing my swings from high to low, scared the next time I go low I won't come out, or the next time I go high I'll do something so stupid I really hurt myself.
Mostly when I'm normal, I look at my brothers and I think about the effect these swings have on them.
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