I feel slightly better than I did on Tuesday, but I'm still pretty mentally fucked.

I suppose the particular manic spell I've dealt with over the last month or so is over now, because I've crashed into an apathetic, bone-weary sadness that has no cause and seemingly no remedy. I keep putting band-aids over the gushing wound that is my heart, but nothing seems to be working. I've lost touch with my emotions almost entirely...they are are a swarming whirlwind inside of me, landing briefly, like a mosquito, to pierce me, then gone - making way for a different (usually contradictory) emotion to land and stab me once again. I cycle like a hurricane daily through depressed, elated, anxiety-ridden, confident, feeling loved, abandoned, hopeless, bright, and insecure.

I had the first real panic attack I've had in months last night, in the balcony of a theatre. I couldn't breathe, my heart was racing at an alarming rate, everything around me went bright, then fuzzy, then tunneled. All I could hear was a roar, and my own heart's pounding. I excused myself, stumbled into the stairwell, shaking all over, and tried to breathe and collect myself. People saw me like that, squatted on the concrete floor, head down, panting, and passed me by, clearly uncomfortable about what to do - should they should stop and help this crazy girl or just pass by? They all passed by, thank God. No one needs to see me like that. Whether stranger or friend, episodes like last night's humiliate me enough without the added shame of me being made into a public spectacle.

I wish I could just be well.
I wonder, as I often do, if this time the crazy is going to stay.
I'm exhausted. Heartsick. And very, very scared.
I wish someone could help me...