Apparently, August 16 was National Roller Coaster Day.
My favorite roller coaster is The Hulk at Universal’s Islands of Adventure. I like how there’s barely any time to panic, because you get shot into the first drop so fast. This perhaps will not surprise you about me, but I enjoy not having time to panic.
Here’s a little loop:
I don’t think I am a bad person today.
It is a rare thought and I fear it must be fleeting, so I feel a powerful need to write it down and share it immediately.
(Dani, get a diary. Christ.)
It was a good day today. I didn’t even need the Decision Jar. I kind of knew what I wanted to do most of the day. And, even if I didn’t bring myself to actually do it… I still knew, you know? And that was enough today.
I wrote a chapter of my long fanfic, I went for a walk with a dear friend, I baked some pumpkin bread even though I didn’t have quite enough vegetable oil.
Now it’s raining and I feel the familiar nighttime twitch of dread, but I also feel determined to stand my ground and FIGHT tonight. To spew positivity into the void and to be defiantly, rebelliously cheerful. FUCK YOU, BRAIN GOBLINS. NOT TONIGHT.
‘Cause they got me good yesterday. I was minding my own business and then suddenly I was bawling my eyes out, gasping, heaving, snot dribbling out my nose.
Monday was a good day, Tuesday was scary, today is a good day, can I stave off the threat of tomorrow before it gets me? If I am riding this bipolar roller coaster, should I at least be grateful that I think I can see the drops coming?
Bipolar most of the time feels like one of those old, rickety, wooden coasters. If you’re a Six Flags Over Georgia person, I’m talking, like, the old Georgia Cyclone. Because the ups and downs can still be thrilling sometimes, sure, but they fucking hurt. I am gritting my teeth and bracing my shoulders constantly as I feel slung back and forth against the walls of my little box. When I wobble off the ride, my head hurts and my stomach is upset, but wait, fuck, how did I end up in this line again, you said we could go and get a funnel cake next!
(Worst Fast Pass in the world, am I right?)
I think I mostly love roller coasters because (I think) they’re fun, but I am also an English major to my core, so I need everything to have a DEEPER MEANING. So, I think I also love roller coasters because they are a series of ups and downs which (usually) mean me no harm. I can enjoy the weightless plummeting sensations and the dizzying heights because I know my feet will land back on hot, solid asphalt soon enough. It is almost literally the funhouse mirror of my dumb mood disorder.
They make you put everything in a locker before you get on The Hulk. Nothing on your head, nothing in your pockets, nothing in your hands. At the risk of being Too Much about this, when else do you get to drop all your baggage and take to the skies?
This isn’t, like, a fresh observation, but I just feel lighter on a roller coaster. I feel free. I’m going too fast to stop and obsess over my problems. I am upside down where nothing makes sense, so why should I have to either?
(I miss theme parks, I guess, is my thesis.)
What do they always tell you on the ride rules sign? “Keep your hands and feet inside the car at all times?”
Done and done, Roller Coaster Gods! I will follow all your laws, only keep me safe in the skies. My pockets are empty, my head and shoulders are back, I most definitely meet the height requirement.
Clear for dispatch.