A grim glimpse into the life of bipolar disorder

Five days since I watched Jessy drive away behind a uhaul on an adventure to Arizona.

Five days I’ve managed to be alone. Utterly alone.

Five days I’ve managed to avoid going entirely insane.

Five days I’ve been reading a book about some depressed kid and relating entirely too well.

I think that I can do this, but I’m also aware that I’ve been managing to make myself far more busy in the last week than I’ve been over the course of the last month.

It’s raining. We won’t have sun, according to our forecast, until April. I want to be okay because I know that summer is right around the corner. I keep getting glimpses of the past, being toward the end of the school year, gazing longingly out the window at the sunshine and dying to be in it. If only I knew that adulthood would be such shit.

As you grow older, your friends move away.. or, in my case, die. You begin to realize more and more how difficult independence is. You begin to become self reliant, responsible, and fucking dull. I crave adventure and I know I’m approaching that time of year when I miraculously afford a trip down to Oregon. A reset on the beach, a visit with lifelong friends.. a trip home.

Part of me wants to abandon all hope and run away without looking back.

Part of me wants to be a fucking adult that can get their life in order.

Part of me is sitting in my car, waiting for 220 to roll around, so that I can kill time by working.

Another part of me just wants to call in and be fucking done with it all, drive off a bridge or fullspeed into a fucking brick wall. If I knew it wouldn’t cause grief to anyone else, I would’ve done it already. But.. here I am.. being so selfless. You’re welcome.

To think, the day before yesterday was so fantastic.

Yesterday was the day it all began to shift..

And here I am, today, as down as I always manage to get… contemplating the best way to give up.

I’m melodramatic. I’m insecure. I’m worthless. I’m pained. I’m pathetic. I’m on a warpath, but it’s only against myself. I’m weak.

I have a support system. I have people that love and care.. and I acknowledge all of that. This isn’t a threat on my life or a cry for help, this is just a regular occurrence of my thought pattern.

I always climb back up, I’ll be happy again, it’s just a matter of time before that happens.

Patience is something I’ve grown to master.