March 30, 2018 is World Bipolar Day.
Forget Easter, this is the day I've been waiting for.
I expect presents, which I will erratically alternate between loving and hating. Plenty of snacks available as binge eating will be a must, especially once the self-destructive drinking gets into full swing. Everything will be delivered as leaving the house will not be allowed. The DJ will play a mix of eighties tunes including every depressing song you know all the words to cry along to.
Unlike my last birthday, people will actually show up - even if only in my own head. Most will tend to say negative things about me, but that's how most circles of friends work, don't they? The dress code will be casual and pajamas will be considered "going all out", although "letting it all hang out" won't be unduly frowned upon.
Party games will involve walking around in circles while pulling on your hair, followed by copious amounts of surfing the Internet with no actual purpose or benefit.
As a special bonus, telling stupid people to shut up because they're talking too slow to process and are polluting your brain cells will not be considered rude, but will instead be a rigid requirement.
Viva Friday. I love it and hate it already.