Excuse the Bipolar…

The past few days have been pretty dark for me. I wasted days either drinking copious amounts of wine, listening to music without regards for my neighbors, watching porn and masturbating. I had so many important things to do but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. All of my intentions felt weighed down by bricks. Really large depressing bricks.

Today I woke up after 11am. Irritated. Withdrawn. Wishing that everything around me would burn to the ground.

Whenever I feel this way, I go to my closet and look inside my box of crazy containment. What is my box of crazy containment? Months’ worth of medication—Abilify and fluoxetine (generic form for Prozac) in a shoe box. I look at them and wonder. I don’t wonder if I should take them consistently. I look at them and wonder if I should take them all at once to stop the pain.

Say hello to my little friends.

Say hello to my little friends. Enemies? Frienemies?  Hard to tell at times.

Intellectually, I know that wouldn’t be such an awesome idea. I also think about what my mom said, “Don’t kill yourself. Insurance don’t pay if you kill yourself.” I imagine her struggling to pay for my funeral. I can also imagine how her crazy daughter has brought shame upon to the family yet again. As if I didn’t bring her enough shame as a promiscuous teen and directionless adult. Aren’t I quite the prize? Don’t answer that question.

She still helps me out on my bills every month. This month she gave me $300 and nearly all of it went on credit card bills. I’ve acquired even more credit card debt since this post. It is suffocating. Sometimes I just want to abandon all these bills and give my mom and me a rest. Maybe I should.

School is becoming suffocating. I have several papers due in less than a month. A bulk of them are for a class that I cannot seem to grasp. Maybe I should have chosen Creative Writing instead. I have no passion for this subject. Silver Fox made school more bearable but since my awkward seduction stunt, I feel so weird around him.

I still don’t even know what my passion is. I have no clue about what to do with my life. I’m f*cking 34 years old. What the f*ck is wrong with me? Sometimes I wish I can run away from it all.

Feeling restless, I searched for “bipolar disorder” in Netflix. The documentary Of Two Minds came up. I watched it and it resonated with me to a certain extent. I felt like it only scratched the surface though.

Maybe I should do a documentary on bipolar disorder. Become a hooker? A bank robber? A nun? A nomad? Nah. Maybe I should just go to sleep and hope there isn’t a day #5 of this bullshit! I want to feel normal again.

I Have a Crush On…

I have a crush on my professor.

I know. I know. What am I thinking, right? At least read before you shake your finger at me in defiance. I’m a little maniac and hypersexual right now so please excuse the bipolar. Just don’t make direct eye contact with it.

I developed a harmless mini crush on The One Who is a Silver Fox when I took his class last semester. He is nerdy, awkward, has a dry sense of humor and easygoing. That sexy old geezer turns me on like a key in the ignition y’all! He’s divorced, has a preteen year old daughter and is 23 years my senior. He is definitely the oldest man I’ve ever been attracted to. I undressed him with my eyes occasionally and inspected his dick print during lecture. Yeah…dick print. It’s not monstrous but it seems suffice. 

My feelings went through a complete transformation this semester. I have a burning desire for him! I registered specifically for his class. I sit close to him. I watch his mouth as he speaks. I have intense sexual dreams about him. When he accidentally said “sex” instead of “text” during a lecture, I nearly lost it. Perhaps it was a Freudian slip. Ha!

We tend to hold our gazes too long but I chalked it up to familiarity—until last week.  I was sitting in a secluded study area as he was walking to his office. Our eyes met and we greeted each other as usual. Here is where it deviated from the normal—he smiled like a Cheshire cat and stared until he passed the corner! This lasted about 6-7 seconds. I was initially shocked but I proceeded to do the following dance in my head.

Perhaps this milkshake does brings all the boys to the yard.

I could be overreacting. Maybe he didn’t stare as long as I thought. Maybe time only stood still for me. Maybe he was being really friendly that day. Perhaps he was waiting for me to break the glance first. Who knows? But then again…when I’m in another class, he usually stares right at me when he passes by.

Where do we go from here? No damn where! Duh! Typical me would flirt heavily until I secured the penis if couldn’t get anything tangible. I won’t do that this time. I’m tired of rejection, heartache and booty calls. Can a sista get wooed and pursued before she gets nude? The fantasies just seem safer. I can control them. He does what I like. He gives me long stemmed roses, kisses me like I’m the only woman alive and takes me to fancy restaurants in my head. He’s such a gentleman and kinky! Don’t hate.

Speaking of booty calls…a few days ago, The One Who Sets Me On Fire contacted me after vanishing for 2 months and 7 days. The nerve of him! Yes I counted! I told him I was no longer interested. Truth is, I am horny as hell but I didn’t appreciate him tossing me aside until he was ready to play with me again. And the bromance seems to still be going strong so I’ll pass. No thanks.