My Bipolar Journal - Number 233

I just don't know that I'll ever understand Humans needs to suppress things.  Saying you can't do something because a standard was set by some society or organization that makes you "normal" or "proper" is absolutely defiant of every standard I could possibly find in either.  I enjoy my crazy.  I enjoy indulging.  Hell, I can even enjoy suppressing if only for experimentation or because I'm temporarily confused. I am perfectly happy with being here or not being here.  Of course, I have a preference, and if you know me, even a little, it leans both ways.  I also don't expect anyone to know me.  All this crud I keep reading about achieving goals that defy who you are or believing things that you don't really believe or being ashamed of being exactly who you are just confuse and somewhat depress me (it's probably all chemicals anyway).  Everyone has their moment, everyone has the time they question themselves and I pray to Neil Patrick Harris that I never live so long that I question who I am now or am offended by what other people think of it.  Some days I don't know if I'm more embarrassed for myself or everyone else around me, but most days both of those things answer either question like a damn palindrome.  Now I want to listen to They Might Be Giants.  Bye for now.  More dribble later.  I am a snake head eating the tail on the opposite side.