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Monday, July 07, 2025

The Edge of Daylight - Chapter 3: Fragments

bipolar disorderJacob barely remembered when it had all started.

The first signs had come in his early twenties—long nights of frantic energy, impossible projects, followed by weeks where getting out of bed was a victory. But back then, everyone said he was just passionate. A bit intense, maybe. Ambitious. He believed them.

It wasn’t until he lost his third job in a year that someone finally said the word: bipolar.

He hated it. The label felt like a cage, a way to dismiss him. He wasn’t sick. He was just wired differently. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Now, standing in the ruins of his manic high, he couldn’t lie anymore.

The crash had come fast this time. Within days, the excitement had rotted into paranoia. He re-watched the video he’d posted—the one he thought would change the world—and all he saw was a man unraveling. The words weren’t profound. They were barely coherent.

His phone had filled with concerned texts. Emily. Sofia. Even people he hadn’t heard from in years. And as quickly as he’d burned through his savings, his energy burned out too. Now, surrounded by receipts and unpaid bills, Jacob was left with the fragments.

The aftermath was always the same.

He sat on his couch, trembling, trying to piece together what he’d done this time. Which bridges had he torched? Which promises had he made? Who had he pushed away?

His journals were full of grand declarations—unfinished ideas scrawled in manic handwriting. Most of them made no sense now. He couldn’t remember why they had ever seemed important.

Emily texted again.

Please answer me. I’m coming over if you don’t. I’m serious.

His hands shook as he typed:
I’m sorry. I’m okay. I just need space.

It was a lie, but it would buy him time.

The memories came in sharp, broken flashes. That job interview he’d walked into, completely unprepared but convinced he could “wing it.” The friend he’d insulted during a rapid-fire argument. The money he’d spent like he had a limitless well.

And Sofia.
He’d called her in the middle of the night, raving about their future, about how they could finally build something lasting. He remembered the excitement in her voice fading into caution.
You’re moving too fast, Jake. You always move too fast.

He had hung up on her. Again.

The worst part wasn’t the guilt. It was the loneliness. After each cycle, he was left picking up pieces of himself in silence, knowing some parts wouldn’t fit anymore.

His doctor had warned him: untreated bipolar disorder is like living life in a wind tunnel—tossed between extremes until you don’t know who you are in the calm spaces.

Jacob didn’t know who he was now.

Was he the man who chased impossible dreams, reckless and brilliant?
Or was he the man curled up on the couch, paralyzed by shame and exhaustion?

The truth, he suspected, was somewhere in the fragments. But finding it? That was the hardest part.

Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model

1 comment:

The Wizard of 'OZ' said...

I hope that you are enjoying my story!