Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

So, i’ve had a pretty tough couple of days. Hence the lack of blogs. I’ve been manic, and i’ve also been so down that i couldn’t get out of bed. It is so frustrating not being able to control this shit. I try so hard to keep myself in check, but it seems like no matter what i do i always end up losing control and falling apart. It just sucks. I feel like it’s pointless to even try. I just want to let it all go and get fucked up. I don’t understand. I tried so hard. I took my pills when i was supposed to, i go to therapy. I try to keep some sort of routine. I tried so hard to keep up with my homework, but still everything started slipping. Now i’m here, as low as i can get. Today it seemed like i was coming out of it, but i feel like i’m at the edge of an abyss and if i’m not careful i’m going to fall back in. I feel so fragile like the wrong word will break me. Sometimes, well actually all of the time i think of my self-control, and the fact that i’m so afraid to upset people i don’t do the things i want when i’m upset. I just want to scream, i want to throw things, break things, cut. The list goes on and on. I just want to lose control, but i can’t because of the way people would react. Why the hell can’t people just leave me alone and let me cope with shit the way i need to?

Today started out with all of the promise of being a great day. I actually got out of bed before the sunset, i showered, ate breakfast, and did all of my chores. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for finally getting on my feet. I was so happy, i mean i haven’t done anything in days. The fact that i got so much stuff accomplished was amazing. Then i called one of my parents and they asked if i was doing anything today. I said that i might hang out with someone i met at school. And they got insanely happy, and started talking about how i should really do it! When they got home i told them that i couldn’t get a hold of my friend and that i might stay home. Then i got a lecture about how i’m a young teenager and i need to get out and enjoy life. My reaction? IT’S NOT MY FUCKING FAULT THAT I HAVE LIKE TWO FUCKING FRIENDS. I mean fuck i would love to get out of the house. But i have no fucking idea what i could do. I have literally two friends. I barely talk to anybody besides them. They’re both busy living their lives, not to mention i’m in a bit of a fight with one of them. So, what in the hell am i supposed to do? Goddamn it’s pitiful when your own parents think you’re a fucking loser.

Some Poetry….

This is some of my own poetry (if you can even call it poetry..)
I have a hard time actually finishing a poem, so my stuff is pretty short…

Relief
I put the blade to my skin
I apply pressure
I cut.

It’s amazing
I love this feeling
When I cut.

My breathing’s shallow
My life becomes manageable
I need to cut.

My blood flows freely
I watch the droplets fall
I continue to cut.

I smell the tang of iron
I taste my blood in my mouth
When i cut.

I feel the sting of broken skin
I feel the rush of heat
I need to cut.

Life
Watching the leaves fall from
the tree
I can’t help but think they symbolize how
my life falls
around
me.

Pointless
I can’t let it go
I can’t get better
no matter how hard i try,
I fall.

Oh, How Odd…
Is it weird that
I lose myself
In those gorgeous brown eyes

Is it weird that
I want to caress
That beautiful face

Is it weird that
I want to run my fingers through
That soft brown hair

Is it weird that
I want that soft, glowing porcelain skin
To brush against mine

Is it weird…that
This poem is about
A girl?

Eye Contact
Pretty blue eyes
Make me smile
Wanna let you know
I’ll be around for a while.

Introduction…

Hello folks, and welcome to my blog: Bipolhilarity. I am starting this blog as an escape. Someplace where I can share my true thoughts and feelings, and I think that it’d be best for me to stay anonymous. To be honest I would hate for anybody I know to be truly aware of what’s going on in my head. They would try to “help” me, and I don’t want or need help. I am 17 years old, and I have recently been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I joined the ranks of the bipolar during my stay at a mental institution. (MI) Sounds fun huh? Not really… Okay, I loved it there. Sure some of the techs were assholes, but I met people (aka, other patients) there who were oddly similar me. I could tell them exactly what I thought without fear of being pitied, or gawked at. The majority of us were there for the same reasons: SI, SA, or SIB. (suicide ideation, suicide attempts, self-injurious behaviors) I loved being at the MI because I was around people who understood the relief pain gives me. I was around people who didn’t see my cutting as an attempt for attention, or some sort of habit I needed to be cured of. I was able to talk freely about suicide. How to do it, when to do it, why I wanted to do it. I miss being there. Sure, after about 15 days I got a little restless, but I wish I could go back to the familiarity of being with the group of people I met there. They became my family. I guess I could go back if I wanted to, but none of my people would be there. You see this MI does temporary treatment. Most patients get discharged within 7-10 days. It was odd that I stayed for 3 weeks. So even if I did go back, things wouldn’t be the same.

I was discharged because I was “healthy”.

In reality, I’m still pretty fucked up. I’ve been home for barely a month, and I’ve already started doing the things that got me institutionalized in the first place. I feel like I want to die. I barely sleep, I barely eat. I cut, and it feels good. God, it feels so fucking good. I love cutting. I don’t see, I don’t feel. I’m completely lost in the rush it gives me. I am never so completely into something. I’m the type of person who is always analyzing what’s happening. As events unfurl around me I just sit back and watch. But, when I cut I feel like I’m actually a participant in what’s happening. My entire life I have felt like a spectator, but cutting helps me feel involved in myself. Finally, there’s something happening to me, not around me. I’m feeling kind of fucked up right now, like i’m not connected to my body or something…surreal. I’m off for now, just be prepared for the next installment of Bipolhilarity.