It’s no joke.  When shit gets serious it gets real serious.  I don’t think I can do the magnitude of manic depression justice by trying to relay it in words.  I’ve read some great authors attempts at it.  My favorite so far is “The Meat Bucket Blues”.  Seems to sum it up in a very descriptive, non-specific way.

It's 330 a.m. Saturday morning I've just gotten off of work, and too many people bought me shots. I am drunk. Luckily, a lot of my friends work nine to fives and can only fish on the weekends, which we all know is the best time to go! 530 a.m. rolls around...