Tuesday, August 25, 2009
hibernation @ 11:32 AM
There’s this place that I find myself fall into where I’m just scared to leave my house. It’s irrational and it doesn’t make sense, but no matter what I do I can’t make myself walk out that door. It’s starting to become a problem, mainly that my rent is due on Monday and I only have fifty dollars to my name. I haven’t worked since the 13th, and I’ve gotten ready for work FOUR TIMES since then and yet still haven’t left. I rarely do that, usually it’s the getting ready part I don’t want to do so I don’t go. It’s a long and tedious process that I just don’t want to put my effort towards.
My bipolar has been all over the place this year. Usually at this time I get manic, but I seem to just be depressed. I think my mania came back in March, but I was too skitzed out all the time to truly know the difference. Not being high is a challenge in an of it’s self, and not for the reason’s you would think. Sure, yeah I get my urges. But they’re not so bad now. What really bothers me is the productivity I’m missing now that I’m sober. I don’t seem to have the patience to do anything, and it makes me angry.
I sliced myself open all to hell at the beginning of the month and it still has yet to heal. I really hate that I’m a cutter sometimes, just because I scar from a tiny cat scratch. Take a razor blade to my skin and what do you get? Ugly scars. This is why Photoshop is my friend, but it doesn’t do much for me out in the real world. Not like I get out very much in the real world, especially these past few weeks.
I’m really lonely. But its funny, because the last thing I want is anyone around. I’ve been wishing I had a girlfriend lately, but would I ever want to spend time with them? I’m always ass deep into my computer, and a lot of the women I date like to complain about that. Plus, I really don’t want to bring anyone over here, to this house, to this empty fucking echo ridden place. I have standards, and right now I don’t even fit my own.
The only fleeting moment I had that was as close to happiness as I guess I can get right now was when Beth spoke to me over Twitter. You would think I’d be walking on a cloud for a week. Unfortunately, that moment’s passed, and I’m just over it. It was cool, it made me smile and get excited and feel like for a minute I might actually be a bit special… but now it’s over. I wish I could hold on to that, even if it was just a formality reply.
Formalities. I hate those, but I’ve been over that many, many times. But I can’t be a hypocrite about it because I do the same thing. Fans… they’re lovely, but there is always this weird energy that makes me keep my distance while still acting close. It’s too complicated to explain right now, and I’m out of cigarettes.
Which means it’s time to go, actually step outside of the house, even if it’s just across the street.
Labels: depression
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
hibernation @ 11:32 AM
There’s this place that I find myself fall into where I’m just scared to leave my house. It’s irrational and it doesn’t make sense, but no matter what I do I can’t make myself walk out that door. It’s starting to become a problem, mainly that my rent is due on Monday and I only have fifty dollars to my name. I haven’t worked since the 13th, and I’ve gotten ready for work FOUR TIMES since then and yet still haven’t left. I rarely do that, usually it’s the getting ready part I don’t want to do so I don’t go. It’s a long and tedious process that I just don’t want to put my effort towards.
My bipolar has been all over the place this year. Usually at this time I get manic, but I seem to just be depressed. I think my mania came back in March, but I was too skitzed out all the time to truly know the difference. Not being high is a challenge in an of it’s self, and not for the reason’s you would think. Sure, yeah I get my urges. But they’re not so bad now. What really bothers me is the productivity I’m missing now that I’m sober. I don’t seem to have the patience to do anything, and it makes me angry.
I sliced myself open all to hell at the beginning of the month and it still has yet to heal. I really hate that I’m a cutter sometimes, just because I scar from a tiny cat scratch. Take a razor blade to my skin and what do you get? Ugly scars. This is why Photoshop is my friend, but it doesn’t do much for me out in the real world. Not like I get out very much in the real world, especially these past few weeks.
I’m really lonely. But its funny, because the last thing I want is anyone around. I’ve been wishing I had a girlfriend lately, but would I ever want to spend time with them? I’m always ass deep into my computer, and a lot of the women I date like to complain about that. Plus, I really don’t want to bring anyone over here, to this house, to this empty fucking echo ridden place. I have standards, and right now I don’t even fit my own.
The only fleeting moment I had that was as close to happiness as I guess I can get right now was when Beth spoke to me over Twitter. You would think I’d be walking on a cloud for a week. Unfortunately, that moment’s passed, and I’m just over it. It was cool, it made me smile and get excited and feel like for a minute I might actually be a bit special… but now it’s over. I wish I could hold on to that, even if it was just a formality reply.
Formalities. I hate those, but I’ve been over that many, many times. But I can’t be a hypocrite about it because I do the same thing. Fans… they’re lovely, but there is always this weird energy that makes me keep my distance while still acting close. It’s too complicated to explain right now, and I’m out of cigarettes.
Which means it’s time to go, actually step outside of the house, even if it’s just across the street.
Labels: depression
i my me mine.
you think you know me yeah ?
My name is Mary. I'm a 24 year old creative mess. I like to tell stories in anyway that I can, though mostly through visual artwork. I enjoy film editing, writing, modeling, photography, dancing, and website design. I'm a lesbian. I'm bipolar. I'm stronger than I usually give myself credit for. I'm a recovering drug addict. I'm passionate as all hell. I'm a beautiful disaster. I want to be free. I want to
fly.
credits.
