Desire

"How much psychopath can you handle?"

Enough to become aroused by knife play and almost suffocation.

Ah, it was relieving to have a friend to discuss otherwise sensitive and forbidden topics related to mine own psychopathy. But this... This is even better.

Never did I think I would actually be able to live out my knife play fantasies. Nor find someone to nearly choke me out for pleasure, one who truly struggles not to go through with it for real. The risk is there. And that is most satisfying.

My intentions are purely driven by desire. For the pursuit of an utmost pleasure I would no where else be allowed to endure.

It is exhilarating. And I imagine no other possible source. 

My capacities to love and pursue sexual fulfillment are separate. I have no moral quandaries if such a sexual pursuit is so emotionless. Satisfy my limbic system but not my heart.

Decline

What even is this.

What is going on. 

I'm at a loss. 

Someone please fix me. 

I know it's important to share these thoughts. 

But even now I am so exhausted and dragged down. 

I need help. 

I'm unstable.

I'm out of control. 

I'm deteriorating. 

Help. 

Dazed and Confused

... and scared.
Of what? I'm not completely sure.

I'm definitely stressed about college.
Assignments are just piling up.

But why?
Because I am dazed and confused.

In a word, depressed.

Depressing bares down on me with all its strength, crushing me.
It is unyielding, persistent.

Why?
Why, I ask.

I spend my days performing easy, unimportant tasks.
The important ones looming.

I am a tutor who knows a lot about study strategy.
Yet somehow, I just can't do it.

Can I do this?
With a vehement core, I feel like I cannot.

Just every, single, day... I sit without a purpose, without a feeling, without inspiration.
Just dazed, dazed...

Though I am logically coherent, I feel otherwise incoherent.
Dizzy, even though the room is not spinning.
Lightheaded, even though I don't feel faint.
And simple confused, even though my logic says I ought not to be.

This monster, it is not logical.
This monster, it is not clear.
This monster, it is not concise.

This monster... it is not me.

Success, dreams, all being sapped away.
For this monster is always hungry.

If only I could end my own suffering.
It is truly my own hell.

Anxiety-striken

I've been very anxious lately.
I couldn't tell you why.

I can barely even describe it.
Just random things have made me anxious, or really nothing at all.

Depression, and now anxiety.
Things aren't going well.

I just can't handle this.

Dragging

This depression just drags along.
Sigh.

I'm not sad.
I'm just low.

This is unacceptable.

I'm so frustrated.
I found out that I'm not on a clinical dosage of lithium.

Why?

Why have I had to suffer so long?
Why couldn't I be on the clinical dose?

All this time.
Suffering.

I just want to be stable.

Some kind of fear

During an episode I have certain explicit fears.
All of which I have already profusely mentioned.

But what about that other kind of fear?
That fear for which I cannot put into words.

Robbed of my sleep, I become paralyzed in fear as I lie in my bed, alone.
Blurry, non-language thoughts racing by.

Could it be the anxiety of not understanding what thoughts flit by so fast?

I have no clue.
I wish I did.

Outside looking in

How do I even begin to describe how I feel?
I don't know that I even can.

How does one feel so out of control without being out of control?
How does one feel so confused sans delirium?

Is this unconsciously fabricated?
Or am I somehow an observer of myself?

I feel as though I am totally cognizant of what's going on in my mind.
I just can't describe it for the life of me.

All I know is that I don't feel stable.
I don't feel in control.
I want to scream and cry, yet I remain stoic.

I feel an intense desire to just give up.
But something inside me holds a flicker of hope.

I just wonder if I will ever get over how destructive this disorder is to my education.

Uneasy ground

I'm really not sure if I can do this.

I missed some of my medicine today.
Stayed up way too late on the internet.

My mind just runs so incoherently.
It's all a blur.

I always hate myself for this.
After all, it's my lack of self-control that did this, right?

Is it really my fault, though?

Some people ponder that question.
But that's not the kind of philosophy I'm into.

If I'm suffering I'm suffering.
I pay no mind to arguing the cause in this state.

Sometimes it's thrilling to be manic.
But must of the time I am suffering.

I wouldn't wish this on anyone.

I just don't feel comfortable.
I always feel stressed.
I constantly panic about my situation.

I feel lost.
I feel like my life is being sapped away from me.
That I'm cheated from living my life.

If only I were better at communicating my pain.

Most people don't take this seriously.
But I need sometime to.

I'm not suicidal.
But I simply cannot live like this anymore.

I'm just waiting for my next break.

Pressure

I feel so pressured to be in school right now.
My father would not have it any other way.

He pays for my schooling.
But does he know of my suffering?

I'm not sure he does if he is so apt to criticize my condition.

It's not flitting, you know.
This isn't something I wish upon myself.

No one would.

I just wish he would understand.
Do what's best for me.

Enough with what's best for his wallet.

Shit fucking happens.

Scholastic Suffering

I'm still in school, yes.

Do I think I should be?
Not really.

But what am I to do?
The pressure of getting through school weighs down on me.

I want to finish school, I love learning.
But I don't know if I can do it right now.

At least, not at my full potential.
And it kills me inside.

I feel like I'm wasting away.
My talent.
My skill.
My potential.

Worthless.

All down the drain until I get better.

But when?
When will I get better.

When?

My Own Hell

I feel like I'm slipping again.

I don't know what I feel anymore.
I don't know what I'm going through
What this is.
I don't know.

I'm scared.
I'm crying.
My thoughts are racing.
I'm somewhat confused.
I could almost dig my eyes out wishing for it to stop.

Reminds me of "My Own Hell" by Five Finger Death Punch.
(...Except without the suicidal or homicidal urges.)

I feel so out of control.
I can't put a label on this.
It makes me uncomfortable.
It makes me want to pull my hair out.

I can barely put any of this into words.
This is probably not all that coherent.

I need help.

Dragging on

I hate this feeling of being tired all day every day.
Even when I get enough sleep, it remains the same.

It makes me unable to focus on homework.
I'm forced to work off of adrenaline to get anything done.

I do all that I possibly can to stay organized.
I even schedule all of my studying.

But all of that hard work goes to waste during depression.
I try so hard to fight it, but it is ever-pervasive.

I just feel time slipping away from me as I so desperately try to escape it.

Down Down Down

I think I am officially at a point where I have slipped.

I have always been confident in myself.
But doubts of my current abilities are haunting me every day.

I have a fear of doing poorly in school because of my illness.
But I think I have a fear that's even more severe than that.

The fear of losing my friends and being unable to make new ones.

I already feel like a tag-along in my friend group.
But what will happen if I leave school?

Will they leave me behind when I return?

I have the opportunity to make great friends with a really awesome person.
She wants to take classes at my college partially because she wants to hang out with me.

I've never had that.
I've never had a girl best friend.

I'm just afraid that if I leave school this semester that I won't be able to catch up in the summer.
And that I won't be able to take classes with her.

And I will lose a potential really great friend.

But I really think it is time.
I am not getting better and I am not able to cope.

I've been down so much that even mania can't compete.
I had mixed features today that only lasted a short while.

I've never been suicidal.
I like myself.

But I worry that if my mood keeps getting lower that eventually I might.

There are so many additional things that I don't want to let go of by leaving school.
Obviously I don't want to halt my education, because it genuinely make me happy (when I'm stable).

If I leave I will be losing the opportunity to see my S.O. every day.
He's already graduating this semester and I've been feeling down about being away from him again.

If I leave I will no longer be able to be assistant opinion editor of my paper.
And I just got that position literally last week.

If I leave I will be forced to take organic chemistry II over the summer.
That puts a lot on the line and I'm afraid I won't be stable enough to handle it.

If I leave I will also be behind in other parts of my degree.
Meaning loading up my breaks with core classes.

If I leave I will not have a stable job with great pay.
I like tutoring, but more importantly, I need to repay my holiday debt.

If I leave I'm afraid that I will place a huge financial burden on my parents.
I already have problems with my own money.

If I leave I'm afraid that I will never be stable enough to come back.



But if I leave...

I may be able to get better.
I might be very stable next semester.
My friends might be more sensitive to my problems.
I will learn coping skills.
I will be better able to take care of myself.
And I will have people who love me help take care of me.
I will have the opportunity to grow from this experience.
I might start to enjoy life instead of just trudging through it.
I will have the ability to enjoy things again.

If I leave then I will be acknowledging when enough is enough.



I don't like to give up.
I'm the person who does everything.
Says yes to everything.
Wants to help with everything.

"You can do anything, but you can't do everything."

I need to fully internalize this quote.
And actually follow it.

I've spent too much time researching how to become more efficient.
How to be more productive.
How to be better at studying.
But I've missed the most important point...

I need to spend time figuring out how to be healthy.

My gut tells me that the people close to me will tell me this decision is due to my depression.
But my heart tells me that I need to swallow my pride and do this.

I am not giving up.
I am not a failure.
I am not a fraud.
I am not making excuses.
I am not weak.
I am not inadequate.

I am strong.
I am capable.
I am perfectly capable.
I am intelligent.

I can do this.

Manic Panic

I may be entering an episode.
But I'm not really sure.

Is it manic?
Or is it mixed?

I don't think it even matters.

I have butterflies in my stomach.
The fear is drowning me.

I'm stiff, eyes subtly shifting back and forth.
Paralyzed.

Paralyzed with the fear that I'm slipping.

Expectations and Explanations

One is expected to be happy.
One is expected to have something they do for fun.
One is expected to have a lot of friends.

These expectations are just ridiculous.
Whoever invented them has a seriously closed point of view.

Someone asked me on my main blog what I do for fun.
I didn't have an answer for them.

Subsequently, someone rudely asked if I actually have any friends.
As if I'm somehow inferior if I don't have a friend group I do every damn thing with.

I don't talk about my condition in a place connected to my identity.
It's no one's business.

So much do I wish I could explain the real problem to these people.
It's not about not having friends, it's about how depression kills my life.

But I'm also avoidant-personality.
Combine the two together and...

What makes anyone think I would be so compelled to so much with other people?
Are people expected to be incapable of doing things by themselves?

I certainly can; and I do.
I don't need other people in order to do mundane, daily tasks.

Do I still need people?
Yes, some people I do need.

But there's always a time and a place.

I have episodes so often.
So I'm constantly trying to catch up on whatever they distracted me from doing.

I think people would understand better if they realized that.
Though, of course, assuming stigma doesn't affect their judgment.

This disorder is frustrating by itself.
But what makes it more frustrating is the stigma.

None of my friends know about this.
And I'm afraid of telling them for fear of judgment.

I only have two people I can talk to about this stuff.
My S.O. and a close friend.

But it doesn't feel like enough.

I constantly feel like I need to explain myself for my behavior.
Or else people think I have an excuse.

I had a huge problem with a depressive episode this week.
My professor is letting me make up my orgo test on Monday.

That's helpful, sure, and I'm extremely thankful.
But I was forced to lie and hide from my friends so they didn't feel cheated.

I've never really had to do that before.
I felt really bad about it.

But what can I do?

The Greatest Fear

What do I fear?

I fear losing my academics.
Losing my identity.

People don't realize it, but when I rattle off my major, double minors, and dual-degree career aspirations I'm not even trying to brag.

It's just my life.
It's my personality.
It's what I do.
It's what I love.

I just feel like that's the best way to describe myself.
It covers what's most important to me.

Education.
And an insatiable curiosity for how the world works.

That's what I love.
And it's something I would never give up.

Ever.

And to be perfectly honest, I feel as though I can do it.
I don't doubt myself at all.

What I question is whether or not this mental illness, this obstacle, will get out of my way so I can.

Just thinking about the idea of going on a full medical leave for any amount of time...
It brings tears to my eyes.
My face involuntarily scrunches.
I tremble.

My love for and practice in academia is my identity.

It's all I really have.

I already feel like I'm losing touch with the reality of my condition.
Where will I go if I lose my identity, too?

No one takes this seriously enough.
Everyone I talk to acts as though school is so arbitrary.

And I find that offensive.

I don't care if you don't like school.
But don't denounce the one thing I can say I truly and will forever love.

No one understands the gravity of this.
And it makes this all the more worse for me.

Part of it is the fault of my affect and facade.
My involuntary, compensatory narcissism.

But even when I get past that... no one listens.

I just want to be in school.
I just want to be learning.

Someone just please help me.

All I want to do is enjoy the academics I love so much.
But I can't even enjoy that anymore.

This is a cry for help.

Breaking Point

I really think I'm getting close.
I feel like I'm slipping.

I feared the day I would realize this again.
It's just... the pain it brings me.

I don't want to go on another medical leave.
I don't want to leave school.

It makes me so depressed thinking about it.
And there comes the tears.

A lot of people seem to be really down on themselves.
I find it strange, because I'm not.

A lot of people seem to have complaints about anything that requires hard work.
I don't, because I enjoy it.

A lot of people are apt to tell people they feel shitty, or that their semester sucks.
Those are things I never say, because I don't think it is.

But what if I'm wrong?

Could this be severe compensatory narcissism?
Am I really just that unaware of my condition?

I try to be so productive.
So studious.
So beautiful.
So funny.
So interesting.
Perfection.

Logically, I know perfection isn't a thing.
Trust me, I get that.

This compensation just seems really severe.
I think that's quite evident if I don't notice there's a problem most of the time.

I've really only started to realize this.
And you would think it would help my condition.

... no.
No, it doesn't.

That epiphany just made it worse.

I feel as though I've lost some touch with my own reality.
Even though on my recent psych test I scored very well on that section.

I don't know what I feel.
I don't know what to think.
I don't know what is correct or incorrect.

I just feel helpless.
Because I realized that I have no idea what the hell is going on.

The guy who is treating me told me this once,
"A sick mind cannot accurately analyze itself."

And it's true.

The DSM seemed so straightforward.
What I was "feeling" seemed correct and as though it matched up.

But, of course, it's not that simple.
That's why you need to be a psychiatrist to really understand these things.

I just feel like I've lost some of my identity.

I've had to humble myself down a lot because I realized I was wrong.
It makes me feel really stupid and inadequate.

I thrive off of being a successful academic.
It's all I dream about and expect for my future.

But not if I'm slipping.

Blurred Lines

Psychiatry is a difficult field of medicine.

It's a very new specialty (historically) and there's little knowledge on the topic.

... which is also why I roll my eyes when people complain about it.

We're doing the best we can possibly do.

Bipolar disorder is one of the most commonly misdiagnosed conditions.

It just crosses over with so many different disorders.

Attention/focus problems that are similar to (though not the same) as ADHD.

"Mania" that might actually be attributed to schizophrenic traits.

Just to name a couple.

I have always attributed my "eating problems" to bipolar disorder.

Could I be in denial?

Who knows.

I just know that I never consciously choose not to eat or binge.

And it's nothing severe.

I'm at a normal weight and I'm in great physical health.

It doesn't affect my mental health at all.

I mean, is it an eating disorder if you forget to eat while focusing on something?

It's just that I've noticed certain behaviors more recently.

It's not at all uncommon for me not to eat "enough".

It's not that I'm starving, I'm probably just slightly under the recommended most of the time.

What struck me was binging.

My friend describes my normal state as "contained and controlled".

I'm just very proper, and there are few things in life I overindulge in, if any.

I'm straight edge, after all.

But the past few days I've noticed some binging.

And I didn't care.

Yesterday I ate an entire box of matcha Pocky.

Today I ate six Oreos I got with lunch (but it would have been more if I had some).

I'm not worried about gaining weight.

I know I'm not going to.

That's simply how my body works.

I think my nutrition is something of concern.

I just don't know where to draw the line.

Slippery Slopes

I took some trazadone an hour ago.
I feel as though I'm going to lose consciousness.

That must mean it's working.

I don't think I've felt this before.
It's strange.

I wonder... does it have to do with having a down mood today?
Does that make the effects of this medication stronger?

It's great that it's working, but it scares me.

I already feel so down normally.
This feeling I'm getting from this medication is causing me great anxiety right now.

What if I can never get to a more positive and regular mood state?
What if I'm like this forever?

Again, my dreams seem more and more likely to wither away.

I feel like silently and catatonically crying, but my eyes are so heavy.
I just can't.

It's a deep, low feeling.
Falling asleep.

This should be relaxing.
Everyone likes to sleep.

... but it's not.

Even though, logically, I understand that I will wake up...
I'm afraid to sleep.

I guess that doesn't matter, though.
I'll probably just pass out anyway.

I just an encroaching fear that I will slip away and never come back.

Coming Alive

I want to hide.
I want to scream.
I want to punch things.
I want to cry.
I want to tear things to shreds.

Only minutes ago I was essentially bawling without tears.
Now here I am.

Breathing erratically.
Screaming inside.
Twitching.
Jaw and fists clenching.
Nails scratching.
Mind just FUCKING racing.

And it doesn't stop.
And it brings me to panic.

*deep breath*

...

*not really*

It's funny.
It's basic protocol to ask psychiatric patients if they have suicidal or homicidal thoughts.

I don't.
Ever.

No, no, no.
My thoughts are a deep, intense fear.

Fear that my life is crumbling.
Fear that my reputation is ruined.
Fear that I will never be happy.
Fear that I will lose my friends.
Fear that I will not meet my potential.
Fear that I will be a failure.

Fear that I will never have control.

But never the thought that I would like to stop being alive.

And here I am, now with actual tears.
Something I can't ever mask.

I can never mask my emotions.
It makes me honest, but it also proves me to be unstable.

I worry about being unprofessional sometimes.
What if I have a deep feeling about something work related and I can't handle it professionally.

What then?

My reputation will be ruined.
I won't have a job.
No longer will I be able to do what I dream of doing.

All I want to do is learn.
All I want to do is be stable.
All I want to do is love life.

But I can't do any of these things.

I feel so disabled.

Sometimes when I have a manic episode I feel so powerful.
So intelligent.
So clever.

Just brilliant.

... and maybe really narcissistic and condescending.

But that's not real.
That's the worse facade there is to have.

When I'm purely manic I feel like it's so cool to be manic.
That I'm just this awesome superior person.

The intellect I wish to be with the attitude I shame myself for.

Half of me really likes me for who I am.
The other half knows what a huge piece of shit human being I can be.

Sometimes I wish I were not born with this burden.
Sometimes I wish I could trade my IQ for lack of this disease.

It is not cool.
It is not hilarious.

It is fucking devastating.

I try so hard to do everything in my life.
I inspire people with the hard work I do.

... yet I feel like such a fraud.

My massive internet following on my regular blog is nearly 24,000 people.
They think I'm just so amazing.
So organized.
So smart.
So helpful.
So athletic.
So pretty.
So interesting.
So genuine.

They think I'm perfect, some of them.

Not that I'm unaware of that phenomenon that's very common on the internet.

... But it's not real.

I wish so badly that I was this person these people seem to think I am.

I wish.

I always think about how a lot of people seem to act like average is okay.
I'm so against being average.

But when it comes down to this...
I wish I was.

At least I would not be feeling this pain.
At least I would not bear this burden.
At least I would not be judged for being so strange.

It seems to be the luck of the draw, what people get the impression of me.

Either they get the really intelligent, soft-spoken, and enthusiastic scholar.
Or they get the haughty, condescending bitch who's not as smart and impressive as she herself claims to be.

I'm worried.

I just told my boss that I should be able to tutor as much as I want like other tutors.
That I shouldn't be limited to only 4 hours of work a week because I had a medical leave.
That I can handle it.
That I'm responsible.
That if I need to, I'll pare down my hours.

But with the sniff of confidence that I obviously won't.

I mean, why would I need to?
I'm awesome.

... aren't I?

I fucking hate feeling so handicapped.
I'm not fucking handicapped.
I have skill sets that are "very superior" according to standardized IQ tests.
I'm not a fucking lazy and stupid piece of shit.

But what am I supposed to do.

How did these other famous, amazing people with bipolar disorder do it?
Why can't I be like them?

I feel like I should be...

Nothing makes me more sad than to know that my potential is withering away.
And that this curse may just hold me back from dreams that I otherwise have the skills to excel in.

I don't have normal hobbies or interests.

All I want to do and be is an intellectual.
All I want to do is study.
I want to learn.
I have a passion.
And a viable one at that.

Why.

I'm alive.
But I am never living.