Bipolar

So my disease, I learned today, schizo affective disorder, is like a combination of schizophrenia AND bipolar disorder.

I feel like I’ve managed my “mood” alright, even though you can tell what I’m feeling in my writing, but I definitely feel the “racing thoughts” and “depressive episodes” albeit, they usually come on, with the voices.

I remember the first email I sent you when I was “so angry I could hit you and kill you” but I haven’t felt like that in a LONG time.

Mostly it’s the racing thoughts that come alongside the voices.

I imagine scientists find this disease hard to treat…

I don’t know where I’m going with this, it’s just a new discovery that I found out today.

Before I knockout

I have this fantasy playing in my mind that you’ll just show up on my doorstep.

Or that I’ll meet you at the airport.

Voices tell me you’ve died, but some women that looks similar or exactly like you has your old ID as proof, and I just embrace her.

I call it a fantasy.

Because with everything I know, that’s impossible, right?

I call it a fantasy.

And yet, it calls to me.

Playing on my heartstrings and I recite its song on this blog as if I’m singing to a sold out stadium.

Someone help me.

God help me.

I want to love again

Someone, you, again.

And I’m making steps in the right direction, but earlier today I said to myself “it’s like no matter how far I get this shit (voices) just keep pulling me back.”

I’m not, “determined,” to “be with you in the end” if that makes sense.

But the voices come on and that part of me that just wants to talk and hug and kiss and fuck makes you the center of my affections.

How do I stop that?

Can I stop that?

A friend of mine said to me the other day:

“I think our beliefs shape our reality.”

So am I holding myself back? By giving myself the space to love you in the past or present?

Is that what’s keeping me tethered to these feelings?

Or is it just my madness reminding me of what once was?

Like I wish I could just sit in those feelings without feeling like a retard.

I wish you really were waiting for me at the end of my shift, that I was waking it to you, or coming home to you, and that with love, with a partner set in stone, I could just focus on everything else I want to do with my life, knowing I picked someone that picked me, and we are happy.

But no, I have to fight off the warm and fuzzy feelings like they’re fucking demon’s trying to poison the pure land I’ve found myself after dedicating my mind and soul to zen.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!!!

Do you have any idea how challenging this is?!

COULD YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW CHALLENGING THIS IS?!

These fucked up thoughts of rape and infidelity in a relationship that was barely there, to constantly doubt myself, shred my confidence, think that my love was a lie and a cosmic joke for the pleasure of some apathetic god!

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

I am divided in myself and I want to set fire to the world.

And then I remember to breathe.

And I drink a beer.

And I do some snus.

Another remnant of you, but I’m sure I’m just addicted now.

And then I’m here, like I am right now, at home, in bed, YouTube on in the background as I remind myself I need to sleep before 4:00AM so I can get to work on time and pay for this life I’m lucky enough to still be living.

I fucking hate this shit so goddamn much.

I’m not forcing any smiles, but also, I’m not telling the entire truth.

This is the truth, it exists, for you, and anyone else that stumbles upon it, but I know I put it here so I don’t have to bring it with me everywhere else in my day to day.

Fuck this.

Not sex but rape

Voices say they closed your laptop to initiate the “sex” so it’s not sex but coercion, rape if you will.

Knowing that doesn’t make me feel any better.

All it feels like is that I could’ve protected you and I didn’t, I wasn’t able to.

So now I not only feel bad for you I feel bad about myself, my city, and all those scumbags that took advantage of you.

I hate it all.

Everything involved.

Pregnant from the Hostel

Voices are saying you would’ve tried to scrape the cum out of your pussy at the dinner in an effort to not get pregnant.

Hearing this shit just makes me feel sick to my stomach.

And I’m not disgusted with you, it’s just that my stomach literally fucking hurts.

Before it was my head, now my gut.

I’m just holding on to pain and emotion I can’t do much more than make a pornographic film out of.

And I wonder if this is where they got the idea for the “Fake Hostel” porn channel, or if that was just a well timed coincidence.

Ugh.

We found Joyleyn Bursts,

Find me my inner peace.

Sex every night

Voices say you had sex every night while you were in Boston.

That those men in the hospital either did or would’ve run a train on you.

My problem isn’t so much with this story, it’s with the fact that it makes me feel bad.

Like I’m supposed to feel stupid or betrayed because you were “unfaithful” but you must’ve had some idea of what was going to happen because while you were in New York I know we broke up. That felt bad in the moment but we still met.

It takes less effort to recall the situation back then but then more effort to not see your face in every white woman that might have a bit of Nordic ancestry.

I just don’t want to feel for you at all if you want nothing to do with me, and that makes sense, right?

Way more sense than the voices telling me you’re a lesbian and at the same time, a huge slut.

There was more but I’ve calmed down.

I mean, I think back to when you said “I wish we had sex two more times” and did that mean you had more sex at the hostel than with me?

And when you said “I’ve seen it before” at the exhibit at the ICA did you mean someone from the hostel took you out on a date late in the night there?

And was your hair always brushed to hide the fact that you had sex the night before, or just because I asked on the first day when I saw your bed head?

All these fucking thoughts race through my fucking mind because of some bullshit I can’t fucking control and for what?!

You might as well have fucking murdered me and got away clean.

Fuck.

Logic isn’t enough

I don’t think I even get out half of the thoughts and things I say about you or in regards to you throughout the day. Mostly I’ve been dealing with writing down the psychosis, but I just said a few minutes ago

“No when I was moving on she wasn’t an every present thought every second of every day”

And now I just had a scenario in my mind where I’m in a relationship and you come back into my life and I try to make it work with my new partner and you as a friend and we have a threesome and then I think

“After all of this time, if she wanted to be back in your life, she would’ve been by now”

But logic alone does not stop the yearning. It’s doesn’t put a cork in my bleeding heart, it doesn’t sew shut my imagination to keep all these thoughts and ideas from pouring out.

Sucks.

More illusion ranting for you.

Wtf is a “toe job” ?

Voices keep bringing up or talking about the myriad ways you would have cheated on me.

I don’t know when, I assume they’re talking about when you visited me in Boston with people at the hostel.

It hurts initially, and then I remember we weren’t dating, you were free to be with whomever, and you still chose to be with me.

I’ve said all the things I’ve had to say about this, I’ve rationalized it in so many different ways.

If loving you makes me a fool then I’m a fool, and that won’t change.

I just wish I’d stop hearing and feeling things

Isn’t it stupid to be so pained by someone that can’t stand you?

I feel like I’m fucking retarded.

Ex (you) wasn’t in love

Amazing voices, she didn’t love me.

But I “deserve” love.

She didn’t love me just like every other girl in my life that chose someone else.

Who gives a fuck.

It doesn’t matter.

Now the voices are saying

You were a “Thot” and sucked dick every night or did whatever.

It doesn’t matter.

I’m a fool, who cares.

That’s why I asked YLVIS to make me a joke.

I don’t care.

If everything that I knew was false, and you’ll never tell me the truth, then I’ll go and find something else that is true.

It’s in the past, I can’t change it.

I can’t change you.

Appparently.

I’m trying to live

I’m at a party with new friends, celebrating Oktoberfest

voices bring up blowjob for laptop. It’s not like I abandoned you for that. It’s not like I was even angry. I loved you anyway, and sometimes, that’s the hardest thing to remember.

They said you didn’t care that we were “going out”

But I remember we broke up while you met the Indian in New York, before you got to Boston.

They say you knew I would care if we were a couple then.

I kick myself wishing I fought harder that you could stay at my house, but the voices say you’d have ”become an ape”

More than anything I struggle with pulling myself back to reality after not knowing what to believe…

But I know I love you, through it all.

That’s one thing that doesn’t seem to change.

Pic from the party so you know I’m not lying. I’m trying to live and meet new people. If I don’t have you, if I can’t have you, there’s no reason to wait for you, right?

30 Person Orgy

I remember the picture; but the voices in my head all night have been telling me it was not an orgy, but “T” was gang raped by everyone because “she wouldn’t talk” and you for some reason thought it was a good idea to fist her and claim it simulated child birth.

And the reason you have a child now is because your husband raped you, to avenge her.

Make it make sense.

A Pipe Dream

Talking to a desperate tiger, asking them if love and marriage is still a goal for them.

I can’t even answer that question myself, confidently.

I mean yes I do.

But no, no I don’t.