I am severely bipolar and I cannot be helped

I cannot begin to explain the pain of it,

living with the knowledge that I'd be better off dead.

It's a low like no break-up I've ever experienced.

I think I'm horribly depressed.

Or anxious?

Twelve hours of sleep,

that's my daily average, 

but it does nothing for my exhaustion.

Nothing can be done when you sleep this much.

There may be no point.

There is no point.

How can happiness exist without purpose?

It can't, so I'd rather be dead.

I don't write anymore.

When I do it's depressing and bad.

I stopped taking my medicine.

I see myself as a loser,

and a loser is never remembered.