[An Elven Song]: 627.Five Words.January

I sit at my old piano in frustrating tears. Who here can empathize with this pain? They call it Bipolar Disorder , but I call it hell. People have no right to hate me for something I have no control over, and yet they still do it. I feel the incense burning in this room, it releases and soothes my twisted, unbalanced mind. I think of dying , although I realize, I already have. The second I was labeled. I have Bipolar disorder.