Bipolhilarity: A Lifestyle.

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bipolhilarity — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 19:12:25 +0000

I’m about to share a poem with you. I’ll write it in it’s original context, and then i’ll change it up to fit the way i feel right now.

Write me a love song
Because that’s all i need right now.
Write me a love song to keep me from falling.
Catch me please, because i can’t make it on my own.
Save me from this misery before i drown.

Carved myself a love song
Because that’s all i need right now.
Carved myself a love song to keep from falling.
Push me please, because i can’t do it on my own.
Push me so that i can finally drown.

Suck it.

bipolhilarity — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 18:18:45 +0000

I’m falling. And i’m falling fast, it feels like everything is happening around me not to me. I feel like carving life into my arm, because maybe that will help me feel. I feel empty, and careless. I hate homework, i hate school, i hate people. I just want to be alone. Like realllyyy fucking alone. I want to be able to do whatever it is that i have to do without constant distraction from people. Nobody really matters. I don’t want them in my fucking business all of the time. I DON’T GIVE A FUCK. I’m so sick of people “caring”. I don’t give a shit anymore. Why should you? I just wanna cut. CUT CUT CUT CUT CUT CUT CUT. But, noooo i can’t do that because it’s “unhealthy”. You know what i say? Fuck you and your ideas of what’s okay for me to do, or not do. Honestly, it’s not your body, it’s mine. And i can do whatever the hell i want with it. If i want to cut myself and smear my own blood on the walls then i’m gonna fucking do it. It’s my choice, it has absolutely nothing to do with anybody else, and i sure as hell do not need permission to do it. I want to drink, i wanna get high. I wanna trip balls. Anything but sitting here feeling empty, or miserable. I wanna drive fast, i wanna fight. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I NEED TO FEEL. I need to be able to cut. I need to be in control of what happens to me. I need to be in control of my life. Back the fuck off and let me live the way i want to.

Small simple safe price
Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets
This is not a small cut that scabs and dries and flakes and heals.
And i am not afraid to die.
I’m not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight.
I want the pain of payment.
What’s left but a section of pygmy sized cuts, much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks.
Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid.
To fill and spill over and under my thoughts.
My sad, sorry selfish, cry out to the gutter.
I’m cutting trying to picture your black, broken heart.
Love is not like anything.
ESPECIALLY A FUCKING KNIFE.
-The Used.

Fuck.

bipolhilarity — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 02:52:42 +0000

So, i’ve been feeling pretty judgemental lately. And i’m about to tell you about some of my issues. If you don’t like it, and it offends you, my bad. But before i start this i should probably apologize about my last post. It was pretty shitty, plus i kind of bounced from different topics, and never finished my story. Turns out it’s too humiliating to put into words, right now.

But anyway, let’s get to the important thing here, my irrational judgement of people.

For the record, i know that i have shallow bitchy thoughts, and i can be slightly hypocritical.

I’ve had this idea, ever since i can remember, that i’m special. The way i like to phrase it is,” If i were in a movie, i’d be the star. It’d be about me, and how amazing and talented i am”.
I know that i’m crazy, and i understand that i’m not any more special than anyone else, but i can’t help instinctively thinking that i do things better than most people. My bad.

So, i met this guy. And he was pretty cool. We hung out for hours, and turns out we like a ton of the same shit. He thinks i’m pretty cool because he doesn’t meet a lot of girls like me. Hanging out with me is apparently kind of like being with a guy. Well, i was just enjoying hanging out with somebody who liked the things i liked, and for once didn’t think i was crazy. It was all gravy (haha) until we were chatting and he asked me if i had a boyfriend.

Now, before i answer let me fill you in on something. I FUCKING HATE when guys do that shit. It’s not just that he asked the question. It’s the fact that he was testing to see if i was available, and after i said i didn’t have one he felt free to “bust a move”. That shit just pisses me off. I am so fucking tired of guys who think only about “getting” with a girl. I don’t want to belong to anybody. I don’t want any guys touching me tenderly, or kissing me. I do not fucking want a romantic relationship right now. It literally sickens me to think about being with a guy. I hate being in a room alone with a guy, because i’m nervous he’ll try to get with me. And i don’t want to. I just don’t understand why we can’t just hang out. Like why the fuck can’t a guy just respect the fact that you have similar interests. Just because we both like music, doesn’t mean i want your fucking tongue down my throat. There are other things sort of like this that bother me. Like if i’m holding hands with a guy, especially a guy i just met; and he starts like rubbing parts of my body. Like my arms, or my thigh. It really pisses me off when they try to slip a hand in my shirt. It’s like fuck. I’m holding your hand, not handing you my body on a fucking platter. It just sucks.

It makes me feel like shit. Like i’m just a piece of meat.

It makes me feel SICK.

I do not want people touching me. It’s that simple. Why can’t anybody just understand that?
It’s weird because when a guy goes from something simple like holding hands, to trying to feel me up, i just kind of freeze. I always, ALWAYS try to push their hand away. So far they’ve all done the same thing. They’ve pretended that they weren’t going to do that, and after i’ve finally calmed the storm in my head…

SURPRISE!!!!

He’s trying to get his hand in my shirt again. And this time when i push his hand away i get this funny look, like he’s saying wtf man? When really i should be the one pissed off (i am). It’s ridiculous. I just want to be respected. I want to have relationships that actually mean something. I don’t want some prick thinking that i’m his fucking play thing. I’m never playing that game again. You can never win. All i was is to be seen as a person. I want to be able to spend time with somebody without getting groped. I don’t understand why this happens to me. It’s not like i’m a slut. I’m 17 years old and i’m a virgin. I’ve given 1 hj and i’ve been fingered a couple times. If anything i’m a prude. I don’t dress slutty, i’m not promiscuous. I have no clue why i get treated like shit. It feels a hell of a lot like i’m just something for them to keep. Like i’m their pet or something. It breaks my heart.

p.s i never actually got to the judging part because i went off on this rant, but i’ll post about it tomorrow. Here’s a hint…. I <3 depression! It's so effin kewl!

The Life of a newly discovered porn star.

bipolhilarity — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 05:00:04 +0000

Oh fuck. It has been a prettttty long time since i wrote. I’m so shitty at actually taking the time to sit down and write. It’s not that i don’t have a lot to say..i just put of writing. It’s pretty weird because i actually love to write. Lately i just haven’t allowed myself the time i need to do it.

Well, the last post i wrote was pretty whiny/teen angsty..sorry about that. I’ll try to stay clear of that shit.
A lot of things have happened since then. I’ve been through some huge shit.

I had this amazing bestfriend. I mean he was magnificent. Well, as luck should have it, he’s pretty much in love with me. He wanted us to be “more than” friends. I had to decline. Things turned out pretty shitty for me. At first he was very upset…but we managed to work things out. I spent my new year’s with him and his family. It just so happens that i’m also pretty tight with his sister, and his entire family likes me. So i smoked up with him, his sister, and this other guy, then his sister and i spent the rest of the night getting shit face drunk. All in all it was a great night.

Whenever i spend the night at his house we end up sleeping together. (not fucking. just sleeping)
We have like this physical chemistry that is undeniable. We are amazingly compatible. But, i’ve always had things work out horribly for me when i date people.

I dated this guy for like half a year my sophomore year. I just thought he was absolutely amazing. I was so in love with him. I would have..hell i probably still would do anything for him. It was sort of a shitty relationship i guess. I definitely put him up on a pedestal. To be, honest we never really talked much. Mostly we just fooled around. I didn’t mean for this blog to end up turning into this..but i think that i’m just going to finally tell my story, and for once tell it the way it really was. I think that i need for at least one person to know how things really unfolded.

It all started in September of 2008. I had this chick who was just amazing. She was my bestfriend, and to be honest i think i might have had a bit of a lesbian crush on her…But this girl was just..i have no clue how to explain. But, she was just like me. She completely understood me. I guess i kind of idolized her too, but she was, and still seems like the perfect person to be in my life. Anyway, she and i had just started hanging out again, because we had gotten into this huge fight January 08. It just all felt right. Being back with her felt like returning home after a long journey. She had started dating this guy two grades ahead of us who was pretty cool. They had this amazing relationship (or so it seemed to me at the time) They spent literally all of their free time together. Well, she’s the kind of girl who demands all of your attention. So her house became my second home.

It’s actually kind of funny, because i remember when i first met her in like the 8th grade i had a crush on her brother. But, i would never admit to it because she said allllll of her friends liked him. I know this sounds weird but i always thought he was slightly interested in me….like he was drawn to me in some way.
And i’m not gonna lie. I understand why he never made any attempt to get with me earlier, because guys generally aren’t attracted to me. They pretty much think i’m a freak, because i’m loud, i do funky things with my hair, i use obscene language, and i have (allegedly) lesbian tendencies. It’s weird but i just kind of had this feeling that even though he rarely acknowledged my exsistence, we had this sort of connection that couldn’t be avoided.

We used to do these late night runs to this gas station like half an hour away from her house, and a lot of times we would ride with her brother because her boyfriend hadn’t gotten off of work yet.

I remember the first time i knew that he might like me.
I was sitting next to him and his best friend was on my right. He drove a standard truck, and sometimes when he would switch gears, i could swear his hand would graze my knee. So, of course i always made sure that i would be next to him on our midnight runs. Well, a couple weeks later me, him, and his sister were laying in her bed watching a movie. She was on the outside, i was in the middle, and he was on my right. This is going to sound odd, but i swear to god i had felt this sexual tension brewing between since the night i felt his hand graze my knee.

Finally, about half-way through the movie he made his move. And it was pretty simple, his hand on my thigh.
It’s crazy but this simple gesture changed my life forever. From that moment on i was his. Eventually he had his arm around me, and sooner or later we were cuddling. At some point my friend disappeared so it was just him and me. I remember kind of dozing off (i could never sleep with him around..) he rolled me over and just started kissing me. It was intense. Maybe the most amazing night of my life. The next morning we were kind of coupley…and we had a few more nights like this. Mostly we were just together. We never really talked.
The whole thing was pretty weird…like he never really made any attempts to do things when we were like alone, alone. Like he would always try to make his moves while people were around. Like he would crawl into his sister’s bed with us at night, and he’d start off just holding me…but he’d always want to do more. I was never into it….i remember…one night he kept trying to slid his hand down my pants…and i would push his hand a way…and…eventually…i don’t know…it became like his fix. Like it was some sort of sick game for him. I remember saying things like your sister’s right next to us, and not right now…

We would be laying there, and i would be just so content to be in his arms. For a little while he’d be okay too, but eventually he’d start rubbing my back, my arms, my stomach, and then SURPRISE, he’d try to slip his hand in my pants. I would ALWAYS, i mean always try grabbing his hands and stopping him….he would do this thing where he’d try distracting me..by using one hand to basically distract me, and then trying to stick his hand in my pants while i was preoccupied…

Well, i’ve run out of time for now. Keep your seat belts fastened for the next installment of Bipolhilarity.

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

bipolhilarity — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 23:12:12 +0000

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….

bipolhilarity — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 10:13:42 +0000

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…

bipolhilarity — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 06:49:07 +0000

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.