Partly it's my Myers-Briggs personality profile (textbook ENFP for the most part) that drives me to break the world down into categories of black and white, good and bad, right and wrong. I live in the grey most of the time and that ambiguity creates a sense of eternal unfinishedness, a feeling of all-is-not-quite-right, with head cocked sideways as I introspect to sift through the grey, to parse it into black and white.
I think that's also the bipolar funk. Relationships become all good or all bad. People are either admired completely or thought of disparagingly, but no one is percieved by my depressive brain as a complex intermingling of goodness and selfishness. Which of course is the grey that is far closer to reality.
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