Grey Saturday.

Bipolar, rapid cycling. That makes much more sense than depression. It’s not the most accurate, still, but it’s closer. Maybe bipolar, with very mild hypomania. Mostly depression, with little blips of something a bit wilder. Wild, I’ve been using that word a lot. It’s something I feel is very much at the core of me. I am not to be tamed, though I have very much been tamed. I am not reacting well to domestication, nor have I ever. I am not a poodle. Poodles can be vicious though. Hell, hamsters can be vicious. They have those huge teeth. Gigantic teeth, and they are very territorial. Fucking cute though. 

I want to do my taxes. Parents called. I didn’t pick up. I will call back, when I feel like it. And I don’t need to be feel about that. I don’t need to feel bad about most of the things I feel bad about. Silly me. I finished season three of Friends. Time to do taxes. It’s simple and won’t take much time, as I made very little money this year. My feet are cold. I want a nice eyeliner. I’ve been happy and sad today, cycling through those very quickly, very often. Some days it’s like I experience the whole scope of human emotion in about 14 hours. It’s tiring. Very tiring. It always leads to being suicidal, whether sadness, anger, or even elation, because then the excitement of doing something to intense is very thrilling. Creation is the only desire which keeps me bound to the world. My friends too. They bring me closer and closer to the ground, to the grass, to somewhere I can stand and know I won’t fall, or at least, that if I fall, it’s just grass, I’ll be okay. How much we really do owe each other, it’s devastatingly huge. Lovely and devastating. Mood charts, medication, psychiatrists. It’s funny. I’m not wearing a bra and I like it. Let’s see how long I can keep this up. That’s been a theme this year: Let’s see how much longer I can keep going. Every day it seems, I’m weighing the pro’s and con’s of existing. That’s a lot to go through every day. Every few days, at least. 

Sometimes even reading it too hard. Too stimiluating. Too tied into life. I can only stare at my surroundings. I cannot be ashamed of this. I will not be ashamed. I have so much shame over feeling what I feel, of not being able to be who I’ve hoped I would be at this time in my life. I am not a failure. I am shifting, I am transforming, into what, from what, I am unsure, but I must trust in this. 

I love life. Remember this. Remember this. I like falling asleep in a room full of friends, Richard and Laurel stroking my hair. I like falling asleep without laying awake for hours in the darkness. I enjoy Toronto rain. I enjoy sunlight too. I enjoy Super Burger, though it takes forever. Their fries are stunning. Superior, in fact. Shakespeare. I want to do Shakespeare. Those are some damn good fucking words. Yes. I want to run 5 kilometers through a forest. There are no forests too close to me. I could take a bus. A long busride to a forest, to run. Not that I’m a runner, but it’s there, inside. I’ve got those cool toe shoes as well. I want onion rings and french fries and pizza. Those are best had with company. I want a nice dress for Gala. Value Village! 

Nobody said it was easy
It’s such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever it would be so hard

I’m going back to the start.

That’s every few minutes for me, as of late. At least Coldplay gets it. 

About Undecided Pseudonym

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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