misery loves company only i've become its slave
blahblahblah. same shit, different day. I don't know if happiness is even a possibility for bi-polar people. I can take the meds, and they help, but bottom line is, I can never escape myself. I am my own prison and I am serving a life sentence. I just spent four days awake and manic. It's pretty s.o.p for me to crash like this, downward spiral is inevitable. People find me so entertaining when I am manic. They don't seem to have much use for me otherwise. Guys say hi and if I'm not in the mood to talk dirty, they're gone. Assclowns. Like they're all that amusing, anyway. Being good at dirty talk is a curse for me. Not the sort of thing that attracts decent guys. Ha. There's an oxymoron. Pretty much most straight men SUCK. I seem to mesh well with certain gay men. Too bad I ain't cut right and they ain't a surgeon. Maybe I just don't relate to anyone. I've always been the weird chick, tho, I'd hoped by this age-32- I'd lost the label. I'm different, different is not a synonymn for weird. Living in this rural conservative area though, I supposed with my open mind and dark interests, I'm a curiosity. I'm just me. I can't be anything else. They can bite me if they don't like it.
Ugh...One of those days where nothing interests me. I have no enthusiasm here. I wish my brain would shut up and let me go back to sleep. Ha, sleep is the only time I'm really content and at peace. Too bad I couldn't have some Kevorkian-wanna be dope me into a coma. Wake me up when the world isn't a putrid festering cess pool of cruelty.
I believe in the easter bunny too.