Then I overdosed at 28, at which point I began to accept the bipolar diagnosis.

Don't you see? We've become smart enough to justify stupid behavior. Like, 'I'm angry at him and I didn't express it, so I turned my anger inward and now it's depression, so in order to feel good again, what I should do is call him and express my anger.' It's like, if we can make it sound smart enough, we're allowed to do stupid things.

I'm fine, but I'm bipolar. I'm on seven medications, and I take medication three times a day. This constantly puts me in touch with the illness I have. I'm never quite allowed to be free of that for a day. It's like being a diabetic.

Here's what I've learned: that someone can change the course of history with a box cutter.

I have the ability, occasionally, of being able to step out and see who you think I could end up being. And I like to play with that.

I don't want to be caught ... ashamed of anything. And because generally someone who has bipolar doesn't have just bipolar, they have bipolar, and they have a life and a job and a kid and a hat and parents, so its not your overriding identity, it's just something that you have, but not the only thing - even if it's quite a big thing.

What doesn't kill men makes them stronger. What doesn't kill women makes men breakfast.