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My Bipolar Life (editing)

Dedicated to
William Joseph Curl
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This chapter is dedicated to the one man who has loved me through thick and thin and has seen me through my struggles with my disorders. I suffer from each and every disorder that Kallie suffers through, so I know exactly what her struggle is like.

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I keep walking straight out of the school and into the parking lot where I take a shortcut into the woods on the way home. I stop at a falling log and sit down on it and let the tears fall down my cheeks. I can taste the saltiness of the tears as they make their way to my lips. The tears are hot as they hit my cheeks even though I’m burning up with anger.

I can't believe that someone would be so cruel as to do something like that. I’m not crazy and just because I have bipolar disorder doesn't mean that I want to kill myself. I can't believe how stupid people are!

I let out a small scream and then stand up and trek my way through the woods. I stop for a moment to listen to the birds chirping. Their song sounds sad and it fits my mood perfectly. I’m terribly upset by the turn of events of the day.

I walk slower through the woods taking in all of the sounds and smells that the forest had to offer. The smell of pine is strong in the air and I can feel a chill in the air from the rain that had fallen last night. I hug my arms around me to keep a little bit of heat in my body as I cross over the small creek that’s on my way home. There’s a small foot bridge that leads across the creek so I don't have to walk in the water that’s a little higher up than it normally is because of the rain.

I can see the exit of the woods coming up on the left so I turn to follow the path that will lead me to the street where I have to cross to make it to my house.

When I step out onto the sidewalk, I can see that both of my parents’ cars are gone and know that they’re at work. Issy's car is in the driveway and I figure if she finds out I’m home from school early, then she’ll tell my mom and I’ll have a fight on my hands. I’m hoping that she’s out with Janell and they took Janell's car.

I cross the street at the cross walk and walk the few feet to the house. I make my way up the walkway and silently try the doorknob, it’s locked, which is a good sign. It means Issy probably isn't home and I won't have anything to worry about.

I stick my key in the lock and turn the knob. I walk into the living room and quietly close and lock the door behind me. I tip-toe to my room and open the door. When I walk inside, I shut the bedroom door and lock it behind me so that no one will come in. I set my backpack down beside the dresser where I normally stick it and walk over to my bed, grabbing my laptop.

When I turn the laptop on, I wait for the desktop to load. When it finishes, I pull up my email and type in my user name and password so I can check my email.

My inobx is flooded with more than two hundred emails from my blog. There were only one hundred when I checked before music class and in the half hour it took me to get home, the emails had more than doubled.

The first one I check is a rude comment left on my blog calling me crazy. That was something I had been expecting to come from the blog all along.

The second comment comes from a girl who I don't know thanking me for posting something so people could start understanding the disorder a little better. The emails go on, some bad mixed in with the good, but from my count, the good had outweighed the bad considerably.

I go onto the blog website and proceed to post a comment:

"Thank you to everyone for your kind words, to those of you who are not being so kind, your ignorance shows through."

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