02.17.06, 1:27 AM

**I wrote this entry while I was under a bipolar fog and have since come to realize that the events that led me to post this never actually transpired. I leave it up because it is a reminder to me of how the disease alters my perceptions of reality. I love you Bailey**

I remember it was a beautiful day and we were thrilled to be getting out of the house. We had decided on a hike and spent the morning in preparation and excited chatter. The day felt legendary, like something out of a fairy tale.

There we were at the trailhead; you were in your wedding gown and I was in my faded denim. I wore hiking boots, laced up tight. You had flowers in your hair and bare feet. Right then I should have realized that while I was prepared for a long, hard day, you were living in a fantasy. But the day felt fantastic, so I felt it remiss to begrudge you a little whimsy.

During our trek, we saw flowers bloom, heard birds sing, felt the spring zepher across our skin, and tasted eternity on our lips. We talked about where we hoped to be in ten years and decided that it didn't matter so long as we were together. You said forever was a foolish idea, I agreed but admitted that I was a fool for you. You held my hand and we reveled in the silence that says more than words can say.

We stopped for cheese and granola and as I rested my feet, you danced among the fallen acorns, all smiles and cartwheels. Though I wished that I could be so carefree, experience had taught me to be ever alert. Disaster can strike unexpectantly in the mountians, so vicariously I enjoyed your frolick.

It was well into the afternoon when I felt my foot take hold. The quicksand was well hidden and therefore overlooked by my watchful eyes. I struggled against it, fighting with all my strength, but to no avail. I held my composure, but with a hint of urgency I called out to you.

I remember so clearly the lines of your back and the way your amber hair moved in the cool breeze. There was dirt all over your gown and the flowers in your hair I saw were actually weeds.

Again, I called out to you, but you replied that saving me would be such a strain. Too many variables, so much uncertainty. What if you fell in too? What if your wedding dress were to get all dirty?

"Help me!" I begged, with tears in my eyes and desperation in my voice. I let all pretense fade and cried out to you from the bottom of my heart. All the despair and sorrow came gushing out. I needed someone to save me and I wanted it to be you. Thank God you were there.

You turned around and with a look of contemplation you stared down at me and my perilous situation. Up to my neck in the slime, I could no longer save myself from tragedy. Just as I lost all hope you acquiesced.

That perfect bare foot of yours came down on my forehead and pushed. You said that you loved me, you really, really did. Completely lost for understanding, I looked up at you and the last thing I saw before disappearing into the muck was his semen running down your creme-white thigh.

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