My Bipolar Journal – Episode 219
November 23, 2008
He always leaves with so many questions, but there aren’t any answers. We both know there are no real answers. The answers are unimportant, unreal, a mere moment of terror for one of us and confusion for the other. I dread the moments I have to feel so stupid in front of people who will never understand it, but look forward to the moment that I immerse myself back into it in my entirety, as I always have. The next time I will do things better. More correctly than the last time I did them. I should have seen my fault. I did see my fault and I did nothing to stop it because I thought the inevitable “what if” would pull through. Here I sit though. Confused and broken hearted once more, but nearly as much as the last time. It’s insignificant. We will pull through. This is better than a few bumps in the road, even if the bumps tear things apart in an unnecessary and thoroughly impossible seeming way.
This is different and no one will ever believe me. No one will ever support me again, but I don’t need their support. I know better.
Next time will be different. Next time will be better and no one but me knows that there will be a next time.
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