bipolar
Bipolar disorder; understanding the highs, the lows and the in between.
Chapter IV: The Fool’s Lament Beneath the Comet’s Eye
Kraków was engulfed in night like a heavy coat that thickened and resisted shedding, as if there were an invisible force rejecting all life around. Inside a chamber dark as the depths of a comet’s tail spilling through a window, glowing a faint grey, sat a man alone. His clothes were a strange mixture of bright red and black, adorned with jingle bells that rang out laughter, as though whatever once caused them to do so was simply an echo now devoid of sound. This man was Stańczyk, the court jester, yet the expression on his face was anything but jovial. He appeared astonishingly forlorn, his haunted gaze lost deep within the throes of a letter weightily spread open on the table before him. All Stańczyk could notice was a broken, worn wax seal that appeared flaccid like human desire, and the letter whispered softly with the simple phrase 'Smolensk is lost.'
By LUCCIAN LAYTHabout a year ago in Psyche
Is high self-esteem narcissism? Myths about narcissistic personality disorder.
How often do you run into all the possible negative videos and articles about narcissists? “Narcissistic Abuse, Narcissistic Partner, etc.” But is it as bad as social media screams about it? So much negativity has been sprinkled towards people with this disorder! It's time to refute such rants.
By torch macktraherabout a year ago in Psyche
Derealization and depersonalization. What is it and how do you deal with it?
To begin with, it is worthwhile to understand what it is and from where it resembles. These are two similar symptoms of different disorders but with various manifestations. Let's find out what they are one by one.
By torch macktraherabout a year ago in Psyche
Chapter XVII: The Sovereign of Shadows
The wind shrieked, calling me through the hollow arches of my empire, and shared the whispers of those from which I had long departed. They did not capitulate, they did not bend the knee—those stubborn flames in their unyielding commitment who were steadfast in grisly devotion to my cause even while I drifted into infinite nothingness. I stand now before the stripped down bones of my empire, their magnificence reduced to chambers of resonating echo and thrones of dust. *Why have I returned?* The question coils in my heart like the serpent of eternal regret. Perhaps it is the burden of promises I once scarred into the flesh of memory now bleeding through the cracks of time. Or perhaps it is the truth that solitude, even from this frayed kingdom, is a reprieve from the honeyed mumble of humankind. Humanity—how shameless a pantomime! They murmur constantly of virtues they loathe, and in the very next breath, dive into the sins of their own disdain. Their laugh, a knife—that roasts, and their kindness, a mask stuck to rotten flesh. I have tasted their "compassion," a goblet of vinegar, and spit it back into oblivion. They are the architects of their own suffering, bringing offerings of opinions about the innocence of gutting like lambs to a slaughterhouse. Weakness masquerades as strength in their world—a monstrous breeding from the bones of gentle chitterers.
By LUCCIAN LAYTHabout a year ago in Psyche
Is Mind Reading Possible?
The idea of reading minds has long fascinated humanity. From ancient myths to science fiction, the concept of telepathy has captivated imaginations. But could this once fantastical notion be edging closer to reality? Recent advancements in neuroscience and technology suggest that mind reading might not be confined to fiction after all.
By Horace Waslandabout a year ago in Psyche
The Mirror Within
Some nights, the walls forget their shape. I sit at my desk, fingers hovering above the keys, while the room folds like a crumpled sheet of paper. Outside, the goats scream—though I’ve lived here long enough to know it’s just their language, coarse and unashamed. Inside, the frogs from the lake chant an offbeat rhythm, croaking my name backwards.
By Stéphane Lalléeabout a year ago in Psyche
Change is a Part of Life
In the Sonapur village, the old mango tree was casting a shadow as the sun set. The slender dirt road where Rohan used to play was bathed in golden light. Now, years later, he was returning after a long time, a stranger to the place he once called home.
By Niranjon Chandra Royabout a year ago in Psyche
