Feeling too good to be in control

In denial for so long, but I have come to the conclusion I am manic right now. I ignore all responsibility, I am impulsive, reckless, wild, crazy. I move too fast for my own. I am already bored writing this and have to stop because my thoughts are moving too fast to type.

And I have the munchies for the second night in a row. Not from cannabis, but the seratonin OD from the chemical imbalance. All I have done will come back to me in time.

In Absence of Stoicism

“Stoicism: an indifference to pleasure or pain by allowing oneself to be guided strictly by logic and virtue”

Watching a senior video at a friend’s house, the feelings of growing up overwhelm me. I often fool myself into thinking I am ready to move on…but there’s a scared kid inside holding my hand, not wanting me to grow. I think it’s a mixture of graduating and falling for a girl. I never want to have regrets, but I wish I had met her sooner. I like Kassy, she makes me laugh. I think she is really smart, and I respect her. I want time to get to know her, hold her hand…give her a fairytale kiss. Look in her eyes and think of nothing but being there with her. Why did I forget the joy of puppy love? Just goofing off, laughs and giggles, smiling at absolutely nothing: innocent affection.

Then there’s graduating…people I have known my whole life. I see Kassy’s senior video and I see people who’ll truly miss each other. I think what hurts the most is I don’t feel that. That reminiscent nostalgic feeling, the pranks and slow motion goodbye waves with tears…it’s not inside where I want it to be. I said “Goodbye” too soon, and while no one was listening. I wish someone was reading this, and I wish Kassy could know how much I think of her. And I wish "Float On" didn't make me cry.

2 days of high school work left. Why can't I do it?!? So frustrated with myself.

Bloody Monday

I took this picture on Saturday and bled on Monday.

Weak rage. I cannot sleep again. I was at Village Inn Friday night after watching the 12th night at my old high school. I had about five friends out of a group of 30 faces I recognize but do not know. I was "happy and enjoying" myself, but then everything felt like it was caving in. I am experiencing the graduation seperating fallout a month before anyone else. As soon as I got to the big crowd, I had a panic attack of some sort. I didn't fit in, and I don't fit in anymore. Below is a letter I wrote to a friend:

Dear Name Witheld,
I feel nothing but shame and embarrassment. I don't feel like I'm even worthy of the title friend. I feel like I've lost all my friends already. I've barely seen anyone this semester, and I am so lonely. I should have told you from the beginning that I couldn't do it. But whether you believe it or not, I tried. I finally got my tutoring service project time moved from Tues and Thurs so I could make every lacrosse game until the 20th. I've talked to my varsity and JV coach. But the last kid who left early got kicked off the team, and he was the first string goalie. Which is why I had to fill in. But that's not the reason, and neither is Mahlee. I'm not in love with her anymore, and Friday was the first time I've had contact with her since January...just to make that clear.

Name Witheld, I wish I was half the friend you are to me. But I am nothing anymore, to anyone. I don't belong here anymore and I should have just told you no. You'll probably think this is a cop-out or just some bullshit, but I am not the same person. I feel like there's no one I can talk to anymore. I don't feel right talking to you anymore because it'd be all one-sided: I'm not supportive nor am I the friend I used to be. The only person I have talked to lately is Kayt, but that was once back in February. I have no one to turn to these past 4 months. I don't talk to my dad anymore. I just want to leave so I can stop letting everyone down. I hate who I have become, and I knew I couldn't do Mizturnmiziscee because if I would have gotten on stage I would have let you down worse than Friday.

You did lie when you said I am dependable. No one can depend on me, not you, not my parents, not my coaches, none of my friends. I'm always coming short, just letting down person after person. I cannot admit I can't do things, I am embarrassed to say "I can't do that". But more often than not I end up having to no matter how hard I try, and it's not fair. Look at the swim video: I knew I couldn't do it. But I was so embarrassed that I couldn't even do a simple slide show I said, "Of course I can". And I fucked that up too.

You have no idea how sick I felt saying no. I'm still sick to my stomach. I let my best friend down, one of the few people who still think I'm anything. I know you don't want me to feel bad, but I'm hating myself for it. This probably will never go away. I'll probably always remember how I broke my last best friend's heart, and never be able to forgive myself. The amount of shame I feel I hope you never know.

I'm sorry I lied again, about making it up to you. "There is nothing you can do to make it up to me." I figured there wasn't, but it was a pathetic chance at redeeming myself. And the graduation speech? Yes. But I can't figure out why you'd want to do it with me. Your sorry excuse for a friend, Me

Too fast to stop, too slow to move

Like limbo or mental state of purgatory I stare at the screen, waiting for the essay to finish itself. "Why is the completion of a postsecondary program important to you, and what do you hope to achieve once you get a degree?" It's important because I want to...ah crap I don't know. I try to sleep but I can't still the racing thoughts. I try write and I can't think. What kind of shit is that? Dull and flat. Lethargic. Blwuh.

Stable:Manic is to Unable:Able

Can you not actually do it or are you just avoiding it? Are you avoiding it so much that by the avoidance the goal itself has become impossible? You thrash around inside your, screaming and tearing the hair out of your head, your eyes bleed tears. On the outside is a empty face, frustrated eyes. Just write, just write, just write, why haven't you started writing yet? If you started you'd have it done by now? I can't do it. Bullshit! You could and can do it. Come on you idiotic brat just write. If you tried than maybe, but you aren't even trying. Lazy sack of shit, you have so much potential and you sit there incompetently like your face just got hit by a shovel. But I have tried...I just can't. What a dumbass. You don't deserve to be able to write. Why don't you do us all a favor and just drop dead. Seriously, start writing right now. Right now, fucktard. Move your...can you even look people in the eyes? You are and should be ashamed of yourself.

I just want to sleep. I crave the mania and the productivity that comes with that. If I was manic I could do all this is just 5 mins. The temptation is unbearable. Be stable but lathargic or manic,uncontrollable, and efficient?

Stains on the Window Bring Out the Pain on your Face

You know you need help. And you don't seek it. You feel like "Greet Death" by Explosions in the Sky. How that sounds is how you feel inside. Empty, filthy, beat up and beaten down. You look rugged in the worn-out way. You can't feel anyone around you. So detached. Nevermind. You don't care either.

An Old Man with One Chance

As I starve for music, I spend an hour trying to get around WebSense Streaming-Media filters. Figured out you can just add ".nyud.net:8090" to everything BUT streaming media and you can get to that site. Example: http://www.megaproxy.com.nyud.net:8090 will get you to the proxy avoidance page, but still won't get you to your beloved LAUNCH customized radio station.

I woke up this morning angry, as angry as I had been in over a year. Frustrated and intolerant of my situation, all my patience gone, and I wanted to grab whatever was near me and break it. Like Fight Club, "I wanted to destroy something beautiful". I needed to go to school, I wanted to go to school. I am missing my second day of lacrosse tryouts in a row. And all I can think is 'Fuck it all'. Stuck inside a box within a cage; thrashing around gets me as far as being paralyzed, but I still try to free myself anyways. I cannot talk to anyone, I am withdrawn from those around me. I usually have that one person that encases the scenario "if they would call, I could talk to them. If I could see them, everything would be fine." But not now; no - everyone is too far away to see. I don't know who I am, or where to go to seek shelter. It scares me, but I have bitterness and traces of hate inside me. There's a monster living inside that hasn't been there before.

No direction, no motivation, no happiness. Just an empty house where love hope and determination use to live. Who is this person typing these words? This is not who I have known for 18 years. This is the feel of a old man who's tarnished soul has no spirit, who's mouth is eternally coated with that sick morning taste, a foul smell of dusty blood and tears, dry cold hands with cracks which have forgotten the sensation of warmth, and dull glazened eyes that have wept all his tears and are now dry with a pitiful sad emptiness. This man has lived his life, seen his family gone, and is waiting for his call from Father Time telling him his appointment. What happened to those years between 18-88? Why did I wake up today feeling like time is almost up? What the hell is going on? How could I blow my chances so quickly? I don't know what to do from here.

Satin in the Coffin

I can't stand people talking about being suicidal like it was some phase or casual part in their life when things really sucked for them. "I broke up and now I feel like killing myself" Do you have any fucking idea what it feels like to give up the will to live? To check out suicide cook books, burn a funeral CD, and write a final draft of a suicide note. To not give a shit about attention, or remember what that feels like. To feel the guilt for the pain you are going to cause to those you care about. To plan what day would be a good time. Just fuck you, maybe you should go to one of the hospitals I did and see true suffering, you pampered piece of shit.

Anyways I gave up today. I'm not talking about suicide, or even considering it. I just had to get that off my chest. I wanted to destroy everything around me. Anything that wasn't alive I wanted to smash. I don't have hate for anyone. Just this pathetic anger at whatever is dragging me through life. Let me be, let me have peace. Either kill me off or leave me alone, but don't torture me like this. I can't keep living like this. It's just not right for anyone to live this way. I have it better than a lot of people, but I am saying none of those people should have to deal with this either. It's the same feeling as those few moments before you die after being hung; the noose is tight aroung your broken neck, but you haven't died yet. So you are suffocating to death. And it doesn't matter what the inside is, vinyl leather cotton satin. Your still in a box in the ground in the end. Are you dead or are you sleeping?

I hate waking up. Means I have to die again tonight.

Which Self Should I Be?

I have just started looking at my internal world and things are very chaotic. First some good news: I got asked to a dance. Yes me, believe it or not. I hate dances, I can't dance, and the school hosting it is known to be the wealthiest in town. But I like this girl, and I like her a great deal. She's beautiful, cute, funny, silly, sweet, warm, real, and just plain fun to be around. Tonight I went to her last basketball game (which I arrived at 2 mins after it ended), ate ice cream, and played Cranium and Catchphrase. I was nervous that I was going to screw up, apprehensive when meeting all the friends and family. Shit, I have so much more to write, but I am using the Alpha-Stim. So I will bullet so points to help me jog:

• Mania addiction and alpha stim
• Fitting in with new crowd
• AG vs AW
• Different selfs

Crash crash crash. I know I don’t have it bad, but still I feel things could be better if it were different. It’s a transition stage; like being stuck in an airport terminal. You’re still leaving the place where you are. But you haven’t left yet. You aren’t really at your departure city, but you certainly are not at your destination. Just waiting to board; and you don’t go to a terminal to relax. It’s tense, trying to remember if you’ve forgotten anything you need, if you said all your goodbyes, what you are leaving behind.

Too much to do, and not enough time to enjoy my last months of freedom. Freedom from true responsibility, of taking care of myself, paying bills, being on my own, taxes, all the grown up shit you have to do. I’ll never get to have this freedom again, and I’m pissing it away by working too much. I’m am being robbed and not doing anything about it. Just watching my most valuable possessions taking away from me: youth and freedom; the thief called time has its hands in my pockets.

I want to have a responsibility clone that takes care of all my work, all the hassles and duties needing to get done. And then I can just enjoy life. Instead, I have both those roles in my body and the responsibility part of me is time-hogging control freak. Oh well, like I said it’s not that bad. I just bitched, now I need to think of all the good things I get to look forward to.

Playing lacrosse, not the grueling practices, but those moments where I am meditating. It’s just me and the ball, nothing else in my mind. What a feeling. I believe that my 18th birthday will be awesome, and in my opinion that is the best birthday of your life. I get to go to a haunted hotel. Then March 3rd - 7th I get to live a dream: Olympic skeleton. How many people ever get to experience that? I am more excited about that than anything else. And in May I get to see some who mean so much to me for the first time since January.

Dreams put out the fire from internal crash. 

Blind Thrill Rides

It's Tuesday morning. I cannot sleep. Looking at pictures of Abu-Gharib torture. Too much...feeling like something is happening with my eyes closed. Going on a roller coaster in the dark. I am damaged bad at best. Just like the son of Sam.

Good Morning! 

But worse...had never been?

A little while since my last post. About 2 weeks. A lot has happened. I am not as troubled about Bush winning as I am how the majority of the nation votes for Bush, shops at Walmart, eats at McDonalds, drinks at Starbucks, and go to church which preach hateful sermons. It scares me that people with so much power can live with such narrow minds, and people with the most money can influence so much. It is a confusing battle being waged in my mind of how one voice can make a difference, and that justice will prevail. What's right will come through, it just takes time. But then everything I see in the media which I despise that: "well son, you don't make enough, so come back after you make 'x' amount of $0's and then we'll see how we can fit your plans into our agenda...as long as they fit into our agenda." And so hope and truth seem to be an endangered species. And people will do their best to keep them alive and flourishing. But with the way people are living, they are dying.

Another thing is my growing seperation and isolation from those around me. My friends cannot understand that people do not keep in touch after high school. When people do, that is the exception. I could leave today and shed few a tear. It doesn't hurt to leave; it hurts to stay. Of course that is somewhat of a destructive delusion of mine, that once I leave here all my problems stay behind. No, no, no...I will always have bipolar disorder. And (Incomplete Post)

Manipulation

Ah, early Tuesday morning, listening to Bubba Ho-Tep. Feeling horrible. Went to homecoming this year against all my instincts. I snapped twice. Frickin' lost it all. Crying in movies is so unreal, simple tears streaming down the eyes. In real life, you fall to the ground when you weep, eyes look like hell, nose running all over the place. I no longer want to go to my high school. All my spirit feels worthless, and I don't belong anymore. I feel unneeded, unwanted, and tired. I am going off my Depakote so slow, but I am no longer emotionally stable. It's a hard trade-off, stability for intelligence. I grow so lonely everyday. Sure I think about sex, but that is not what I am going after. I just need to hold someone, take comfort in her arms. Oh, few will know this type of sad and loniless. Help, please help me tonight.

A broken nose...

Quick little post mid-day before lunch. It hurts to feel like a nuisance, like a bother, when you only want to help. I am just trying to clean a room, to help things become productive. And I am told to go away. I want to start a girls lacrosse team, and I feel like such an annoyance. But now that I am writing this out, I realize what good training this is. I have to learn the world is very unsupported and for the majority doesn't give a shit about my ideas or my problems. So I must in turn be strong enough to keep trying, keep working to my goal. I cannot give up until I have my nose broken by the door repeatedly getting slammed on my face. Just keep on truckin'.

Internal Nihility

It is early Saturday Morning. I feel empty. A void where a conscience use to reside, nothingness where a heart used to harbor. It is the occurrence of one's soul being removed through the eyes. A moment so often fictional, captured in film by slowing everything around to people. You see the girl you would gladly die for walk past you. Sad, this sounds like an obsession. Devotion must be somewhat...I cannot scribe it correctly. Anyways, I look her straight in the eyes. Why neither of us could say hi, I still do not know. For me, all I could see was her eyes. The entire stadium sincerely vanished.

10 minutes late everything feels cold. Empty. It doesn't make sense. Like that horrible 80's song says, "Owner of a lonely heart, better than a broken heart". Why do I focus on these destructive emotions? This a clear example of heart over mind. I just can't get it out. Can't shake. It just sits there like a tumor. So much to write and rant, and yet who reads this? Line by line? Who are you? Why read my rants of self misery? Why do you care?

Bipolar lesson #1: people with bipolar develop suicidal thoughts when life is at its best.

This is insanity. I can't feel like you. I get accepted to my #1 college, I have two loving parents, great friends, and a future. But I want to die. Or be unconscious. Is there something missing? What is it inside that makes being awake so painful? Is it simply a broken heart magnified to devastating proportions? And if so, who will ever love me without being afraid? I mean, a true relationship were my girlfriend knows who I really am. If you knew me, how could you love me? With all my insecurities and horrible... I can't. Worn out. Hope lost. All from a 17 year old starting his life. How can I keep going on like this? Wishing every day for the easier path.

Bipolar lesson #2: in a twisted, despicable, sick world perspective, you want a terminal illness or a life-ending accident.

Crying to yourself. Sufjan Stevens, sing me to sleep. Who am I? It is cold. What is it that I want? I want to be held. To be held by a girl who knows how wrong my head is and still loves. She accepts my random times of insecurity and thinks I am strong. Please hold me tonight. I just need you to hold me without pitying me. I know this is an unhealthy way to life. But I know no other way.

...from a girl called "Kill"

It's 36 degrees already, and it's September. Had a crazy dream about a girl I met online. Driving in my neighborhood and stopped at this party late at night in my brother's 1960 Chevy Impala. When I got out, I walked around. She got in, unlocked the door, and started the car. I got in, and we drove to some Subway. Very strange.

Song of the day is "Green Day - Blood, Sex and Booze". I am beginning to ponder why I even started this blog. Who will ever devote any time to reading what I have written. Well, I guess I'll write with the intention of it not being entertaining. Feel like hell. Maybe I'll write more later.

Full tank of gas and no wheels

Man, I feel like shit. I haven't been to school in weeks. It all seems so strange and pointless. It doesn't matter how hard I try, I still can't function like those around me. In many ways I don't want to, I guess I just envy the simple stability people take for granted. I am really going to enjoy this blog. It will ever be shared with people? I don't know. I plan to speak what is directly on my mind, which isn't always decent nor is it considerate of people's feelings. I try my best to treat everyone with respect, but my God people make me sick sometimes. They also break my heart. I guess I'll throw it out there. Hell, it's not like she'll ever read it.

There is a girl named Emily. I could not have more respect for a girl. She is so smart and funny. If you met her, you'd like her, even if you didn't know why. We're just close friends. I told her how I felt. We don't talk on the IM, email, or even talk on the phone. We write hand-written letters back and forth. She is the most amazing person. She has always been there for me, and I hope I have done the same for her. For over 2 years, letters back and forth without a problem. I wrote two letters to her; I mean these were strips of my soul in an envelope. And no response. For almost a month. But alas, the twist. She forgot to include the "west" portion in my address. So while I had thought I had lost a friend, the post office didn't know if the letter went to West or East Uintah. Life is like that I suppose.

Time carries on. Wasting another day trying to get busy work done remotely. My head just won't slow don't for things like psychology or economic worksheets. I cannot focus. Maybe it's the Depakote I take, which my doctor so timely told me that "it has been known to knock off 40 IQ points". How can I describe this frustration? Imagine having so many places to go during the day. Your car is in working condition, and has a full tank of gas. Keys are in the ignition, you know what you have to do, where you have to go. But the car has no tires, no wheels. So you sit there. You can try pushing the car, but you can see how far that will get you. Somedays, you have wheels but no brakes. But days like these, you have no wheels.

I spend too much time in front of the computer. But I think it's because it is the only device which matches my emotional state. If I am manic, I have 10 different applications running with 30+ windows. When I am depressed I just stare at the screen, and it patiently waits. It does not judge productivity. I hate the cave I am in. I wish I had a tablet with wi-fi, so I could just go wherever and blog. Time to go bowling. Yes, bowling is a physical education credit at CHS.

Inaugural Post

Well, here I begin. My first post in my blog. To those who don't know me, we'll keep it that way. I'll just state that I am diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I have a warped sense of reality, and now everyone can enjoy the insanity which is my mind. I am a 17-year-old male. I am depressed right now. I hope not to turn this into a complete bitch fest. Yes, there will be profanity. Hell, I can't think. Not going to blog when there isn't anything to blog about. Good night.

Weak, heavy, and dead.

Dead. Heavy and dead. Like that calm moment while you’re drowning and you finally quit fighting the water coming into your lungs. Weak, heavy, and dead.

Insomnia has come again, the monster I cannot escape. So tired and as always the sleep I yearn for will not come. I have two tests tomorrow. I am fucked. I haven’t studied for psychology, or economics. My eyes are watering….sleep. Sweet, sweet unconsciousness. Why don’t you visit me? I feel like shit. Tired, lonely, and plain old shit. I never expected my senior year to go completely smooth, but to already feel like this. I love a girl who a) is too busy for guys and b) couldn’t give a rat’s ass how I feel about her. I can’t work.