It's okay now

“Good morning,”
I greeted, cheerfully raising my hand with a smile. But she didn’t even look at me—pretended not to see me. Wasn’t this the same person who just yesterday had shouted a loud, echoing “Good morning!” as if trying to wake the whole neighborhood? Has she entered a depressive phase now?

When walking through the neighborhood, I’ve learned to watch the facial expressions of familiar people carefully. If you don’t, your whole day might start off on the wrong foot. I thought I’d quietly pass by without making eye contact, but then they opened their arms warmly for a hug—so I hugged back lightly and stepped away. Ah, back to the manic phase!

Over the years, I’ve met three or four people with bipolar disorder. The first time was in college, and since I had no experience with it back then, I had quite a hard time.

It was the spring semester of senior year. A tall, decent-looking male student returned to school after a break. He said he liked me and started following me around. We were clearly mismatched—he was tall and good-looking, and I was short and not particularly pretty.
Still, he stuck around all summer. Then fall came, and suddenly he acted like he didn’t know me, brushing past in a hurry. I figured he must have found someone new and lost interest in me.

Then one early summer day the following year, I ran into him in front of my house—he had gained a lot of weight and looked much bigger. He said he had something to tell me.
That “something” was:
“Let’s get married.”
I was stunned. He hadn’t even acknowledged me all winter, and now he was suddenly talking about marriage? Was he trying to use me as a rebound after things didn’t work out with his girlfriend?

He started waiting for me in front of my house every day. My father, unable to ignore it anymore, took him to a café and gave him some advice:
“If you want to win someone over, you should hide in the forest, observe your enemy, and wait for the right moment. Charging in head-on like this will only make them run farther away. Retreat for now and wait for your chance.”

Surprisingly, my father’s words seemed to work—he disappeared for a while. I felt safe enough to go outside again. But one day, I nearly fainted from shock. Not only was he back, but he had stationed himself outside my house like a guard, taking shifts with a friend to keep watch. His sister even came to visit me.

What she told me was completely unexpected: her brother had bipolar disorder. She begged me to be patient just a little longer—they were arranging for him to be hospitalized as soon as they could gather the money. Well, that explained everything. Who could possibly love me that much, right?

After that incident, I developed a habit of observing new people for several years before trusting them—watching through all four seasons to get a sense of their emotional stability. Some people with bipolar disorder cycle with the seasons, while others swing much more frequently.
With those people, you have to dodge their emotional waves like surfing. Once you get entangled, your life can spiral into chaos.

Thankfully, according to a college friend who visited New York last year, that guy—the one who chased me during his manic episodes and ignored me in his depressive ones—got married and has a stable job now. It was oddly comforting to hear.

But even now, I sometimes dream of him lingering in front of my house. In the dream, I run away in fear— Then wake up muttering to myself,
“It’s just a dream. It’s okay.”