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 Withdrawn.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.
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.