Fortitude

1-Fifteen

Ibilisi wa mtu ni mtu
(The evil spirit of a man is a man.)

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Taji

Bipolar disorder.

A disorder associated with episodes of mood swings ranging from depressive lows to manic highs.

The exact cause of bipolar disorder isn't known, but a combination of genetics, environment and altered brain structure and chemistry may play a role.

That's pretty much the first thing you'll find on the internet when you look it up. But if you ask me what it is, here's what I'll tell you.

Bipolar is my life. My highs. My opportunity to see everything in the highest level of optimism and care free attitude. My definition of normal.

Bipolar is my death. My lows. My road block that hinders my understanding of the point of living in general. My definition of abnormal.

Bipolar is the one thing that made my sister become my best friend. It was the same thing that made my father my worst enemy. It's the one thing that made everyone see me. It's also the one thing that got everyone judging me. It's the one thing that changed my life for the worst after my mother lost her fight to cervical cancer.

I was at the verge of bankruptcy. I had spent a significant portion of my earnings for that fateful month on 15 pairs of sneakers. Not the 500 shilling (roughly 5$) ones off thrift shops. My heart ached for the high end ones. From Jordans to Air max to Yeezy to Nike to some weird looking Luis Vuitton ones, can't really remember the rest.

I had just come from work with an outburst of ecstacy. I could literally feel it coursing through my veins. My head was in wonderland for quite a while and for some reason all I could think of was shoes. I spent hours upon hours, day after day, for nearly two weeks, digging through every clothing store website my fingers led me to as I just kept clicking the hypnotising 'purchase now' signs. Each time I heard the doorbell ring for a delivery, the high escalated. Each time my office landline buzzed as my receptionist informed me of a delivery, the high escalated.

I personally picked up my 15th pair one evening after work. It was a pair of red and black Air Jordans. They were my favourite of the fifteen. I got into my car and opened the box to take in that fresh rubber and foam smell. I could feel my blood coursing through my veins demanding another high. An adrenaline rush mixed with joy and a craving for more, taking full charge of my next actions, I turned on the ignition and wasted no time in stepping on the gas.

My head was pounding, not from a headache, but from trying to regulate all the reactions surging through my entire body. My ears were ringing as I felt like my brain was about to explode. My vision got blurred as all my senses were heightened to their maximum extent by the new shoe smell wafting through my car. What happened next was just simply by the little mercy God had for me then.

An elderly woman crossing the road was in sight ahead of me when my vision cleared. Those innocent eyes, slightly hidden by the deep wrinkles around them, staring dead at me felt like an arrow piercing right through my chest.

I hit the brake and stared right back, my heart dropping all the way down to my stomach. I swallowed the lump in my throat as she simply gave me a gracious smile and walked away. The witnesses on the other hand weren't in any way intending to let me get away with what was about to transpire. There was one, and then there were two, and before I knew it I had around six men shaking my car. I held my head in my hands as my seat rocked from side to side with insults and cheers filled the background.