These are the two opening pages of my second graphic novel, Diary of a Manic-Depressive, 1997.

      As with my first graphic novel, I had no idea what sort of project I’d begun, or how much time I would end up devoting to it. Whereas my first graphic novel was a somewhat goofy science fiction sort of story, the story here was much more difficult to tackle because of its personal intimacy. I wanted to capture an honest sense of my own reality during this time, and that required a mix of truth and fantasy. Throughout much of the project I stepped back to ask myself: “Will any of this make any sense to anyone else besides me??”  I still really don’t know the answer to that. I don’t even know if it makes sense to me.

       I donated a copy of the book to the UWMC’s psychiatric ward. As far as I know, it’s still in the bookshelf in the common area.