Reflection from June 3rd, 2008 @ Age 26
RE: LOVE **IS** A DRUG TO A BIPOLAR MIND WHO’S BEEN SERIOUSLY DEPRIVED THEREOF.
I had a thought today that’s been of assistance to my crazy manic mind. I thought, aside from a lit-tle birthday message tomorrow, if I write Bobby again it’s gonna be with the truth. What is the truth you might ask? Well I’ll tell you my friend. The truth is that I’ve always had feelings for Bobby. The only problem was the timing always felt awful, in a horrible and uncanny way. I don’t know why. I cannot tell you why. I’ll ponder it though.
The truth is that I saw Bobby calling and intentionally failed to answer my phone. I wanted to see him but I was in such a state of disarray that my capacity to interact with other human beings was minimal if not nonexistent. Moreover, I knew I’d want to kiss him if I saw him because he’s not been with Charity for a long while now and it’d finally be my turn. My turn. But if I didn’t kiss him I would have been disappointed, and if I did kiss him then I would be confused. So you can imagine my confusion when I went to visit him and ended up sleeping with him! What does it mean, does it mean anything at all, does he even care? All these questions that fill my head.
Now on top of that you add that I’m bipolar. When I failed to answer the phone I was in a state of depression I’m not sure Bobby could even comprehend. It’s the kind of depression you find yourself struggling through when the bottom drops out and there’s no safety net to break your fall. Then when we started talking again, when I reestablished communication with Bobby, my bottom sprang forth and catapulted me as high as can possibly be. I’ve been in a state of euphoric mania now for almost two months because Bobby decided he wanted to be a part of my life. For the time being. And in my state of mania the intensity was raw and forlorn, and overbearing. I’ve overstepped boundaries, I feel, and because of this Bobby stopped writing me back. I don’t know what I did or what changed with him, but Bobby talked with Andrew about “the weekend” and after that I was cut loose. I don’t know what happened, I’m confused and I’m falling. Falling falling I’m falling to the ground. Nobody will be there to break my fall. Nobody is ever there to break my fall. Live and sedate. Live and sedate.
And so I acted overbearing in my state of mania and emailed a bit too often (even though he said he likes getting emails from me and that I can email him anytime I want), and the words I’ve spoken have been a bit too overwrought. And so here I stand, at the bottom once more, and I cannot write Bobby the truth. I cannot write him the truth because I feel doing so would only make things worse. He’d only think less of me than he already does. He won’t write back. I loved that he would write back and now he won’t write back. And I don’t know why. I can’t tell him the truth, and perhaps that’s his exact same dilemma. Why ohh why is the truth so difficult to bear? Why ohh why am I so far from normal that I cannot even maintain social relationships with peers? Why am I me? Why was I chosen to lead such a life of struggle and turmoil and patent disregard? Why, all my life, have I loved those who could not love me back? Is there anyone that could love this mess of a mind? I want to hope so, but today I don’t believe it’s possible. Today I just cannot take it.
I hate Bobby. I hope he goes to hell.
Let me tell you something. Bobby is not who I even want. I’ve fallen in love with the idea of falling in love, but reality has not followed. I don’t want to be high and feel awkward for our first kiss. I don’t want to be with someone who has no idea what it means to struggle. I don’t want to be with someone who’s had their life handed to them on a silver platter. I don’t want to be with someone who’s mouth doesn’t fit mine. I need bigger, fuller lips I can suck on. I need intensity and passion and fulfillment and desire. I want so much more than Bobby could ever even hope to give me. I want so much more. This is okay…I’m going to be okay.