My Bipolar Journal - Episode 176

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 176

February 6, 2008

I’m so fucking disappointed. Two days ago I had a fever of 100.3, which was a big deal for me because I hadn’t had a fever in like a decade. My body over-reacted to being THAT fucking sick, I hallucinated on my mother’s birthday. She texted me saying, “Happy Birthday to me! I figured you’d forget and I’d remind you.” I was so hopped up on Nyquil that I thought I had been in a coma for two month and that it was my birthday. Yes, I can be hopped up on Nyquil because I never take anything for anything, so sorry I’m not as cool as the rest of the drug addicts out there. It only makes Nyquil cooler than crack EVER will be for your lousy asses.

I finally was really super hungry and wanted to go out on my only night off, get laid, have some drinks… you know, blow off some steam and it ended up being more stressful than, well, just about anything. I don’t really super know why. I think because maybe I wanted some attention. I don’t mind being by myself, but sometimes it stinks not having someone pay attention to you when you’re sick. Sometimes it’s awesome. Actually, I had someone paying just enough attention to me while I was sick, but I though, “Hey! I’m better! Now I can get the real attention!” Not so much. It’s all good. It’s barely important except that tonight was SO lame.

I went to a bar to get away from everything else and all I ended up doing was hearing about work all night. I even told the guy to shut up and talk about something else because I was out to not think about work, but he was drunk and has no life, so it was more depressing than usual.

My internet’s not really working right now and I got cut off at the wrong time and it made me look like an ass.

One of my friends still hasn’t saved my number in his phone… in like a year. I gave him a bunch of shit though, so hopefully that problem’s resolved.

And no matter what happens, whenever I’m sad, I think of Him. Which only makes me sadder. This is why Sunday is usually my pajama day. The day I cry, pamper myself and don’t talk to anyone, so I don’t overreact to nonsense during the week. Now I’m doing exactly that.

All I have to look forward to now is a week of working. I mean, I’m excited about the bands this weekend and stuff, but I just wish it was somewhere I didn’t HAVE to be. I’m also glad that somewhere I HAVE to be isn’t inside a cubicle.

I just kind of want to whine and there’s no one to whine to appropriately. Stab, stab, stab.