Hiraeth

When I had finished applying fresh makeup it finally hit me – I had no idea what I was getting ready for. It was well before noon, and as far as I knew there was no rush to be anywhere before then. No appointments, no coffee dates. Nothing. I suppose that I had been so accustomed to a routine that I fell into it robotically. It didn’t bother me, however. I looked good, and that made me feel better. By now, the details of my nightmare were gone. All I remembered was that I had it. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

I could sense what I called “the indescribable feeling” creeping up on me. This feeling was a mix of confusion, numbness, and excitement. There must be a word for this concoction of emotions, but for now ‘indescribable’ was as close as I could get. It made my heart itch and my mind race. Whenever I felt this it was like my body was going to explode from restless energy. I didn’t know what to do, and I had no idea where this was coming from. I could feel hatred rise in me, and I left my bathroom without bothering to look myself over once more. I was on a mission to nowhere but down. I was agitated from this hatred, and I couldn’t even begin to understand its origin. Maybe it was left over emotion from my nightmare.

I made my way into my kitchen and I was already dreading over the thought of what I might find in here. By that I meant that I wouldn’t find anything. Money had become tight and groceries were a forgotten priority. To spare myself utter disappointment, I decided to skip breakfast.

I moved on with my day. Somewhere along the line I decided to go window shopping to calm my mind. It seemed foolish, since overspending is what made my financial situation become rather strangling, but this is what I needed. Being bipolar came with all sorts of twists, turns, and triggers and by doing whatever calmed me down and made me content was a much needed necessity.

I smirked a little bit as I strolled down the aisles of the local Barnes & Noble. The social stigma associated with bipolar disorder – and mental illness in general – was ridiculous. It goes without saying that mental illness is not a choice. Recovery is, but not the illness itself. I despised the people who use mental illness as an adjective.

“I was so depressed yesterday.”
“I am so OCD over my life.”
“The weather is so bipolar today!”

That last one is my favorite. Ignorant people are amusing to a degree. Once that degree is reached, blood can be spilt. While I make it a point to never actually spill blood, literally, I definitely spill it figuratively. I realize that this can feed the stigma, but people need to be educated. After all, you aren’t ignorant for knowing what you know – you are ignorant for believing what you think you know.

I shook my head and picked up the book Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen. I needed to get my mind off of that topic. It was starting to ruin my moment. That and I really needed to read this book at some point, preferably when I got some spending money.

“It’s a good book, you know.”

I looked up seeing a man around my age standing next to me. He had dark hair like the feathers of a raven and eyes the color of ice. The combination seemed cliché, but it was striking none the less.

“Oh, yeah?” I asked, looking back at the book.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I mean, I just saw you shaking your head at it, so I assumed that-“

I interjected. “Oh, no! I was just thinking about something. I’ve actually wanted to read this book for a long time. I love the movie, you know? The one with Keira Knightley.”

He nodded, a smile on his lips. “Yeah, I’ve seen it at least a hundred times. My sister loves it.”

I smiled back. “Most guys don’t sit through movies like that for the sake of their sisters. But it’s family right?”

He laughed again. My God it was the sexiest thing I have ever heard. “That’s right. I’m Nikolas, by the way.” He held out his hand.

“I know,” I replied, giving his hand a shake. Nikolas looked confused, but I pointed to the nametag on his shirt. He laughed again.

“I forgot I was wearing it. How embarrassing.”

“Do you work here? I’m Giselle, by the way.”

Nikolas shook his head. “No, I work at a coffee shop a few blocks away from here. I come here after work a lot. Got to stay up to date on my reading list, you know?”

I smiled. “I haven’t even started mine yet. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Nah, you’ll get around to it.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but he looked down at his phone.

“I better get going. But I was nice to meet you, Giselle,” he said, shaking my hand again.

I could feel my heart flutter. “Yeah, likewise.”

Nikolas left me standing holding a book that somehow didn’t even matter anymore. I was always a sucker for a good looking man. But I had forgotten that a good looking man was what brought me to this state of mind in the first place. I told myself that I wouldn’t get my hopes up about this, even though I didn’t even understand what ‘this’ was. As far as I was concerned, I couldn’t trust someone with my hopes again. Not after what happened last time.