It's like standing on a cliffside, not knowing when you'll dive.
I can feel a relapse coming on. It's insane, the way my hyperactive pattern recognition does nothing for me. I can't stop it. I wouldn't know how to. That's what's fucking annoying about therapy. Just tell me how to stop it. The fact that I can see it coming has to mean something, right? That has to help.
My abandonment issues are through the fucking roof, too. Everyone's leaving. Everyone's fucking leaving or gone and I don't know how to make myself okay with it. I don't even know how to put it. I just don't know how to handle it. I'm gonna be alone, again, in a new town, surrounded and trapped by new people that might be fucking intolerable. That's worse to think about, now that it's there-my roommates could be horrible. I think I'd go insane. I could live with someone like fucking ----. Oh my god. Kill me.
Havent had a good breakdown in a while. I think my meds are stopping me. Which is great, in theory, I mean I'm not slitting my thighs or starving myself so that's always better, but everything feels stuck. I don't know how to get that release. It's kind of driving me up a wall. I think usually crying would be the answer, right, but I can't. The meds stop that too. I just can't fucking get myself to. So, substance abuse it is, I suppose.
Here's to hoping the newfound snese of control in adulthood keeps me from, yknow, full relapsing. Hopefully I can keep working right from the start. Maybe that way I can keep using tattoos as my fun little replacement for fucking cutting. I don't mean that. I don't get tattoos just as self harm. But god, I can't act like it's not part of it.
I want to black out in-between all of my appointments. And jumpcut to the concert. Yknow? I just kind of... don't want to deal with being generally awake. Takes too much time. Is that depression? It kind of feels like depression.
I feel so fucking annoying, talking about how much getting older is freaking me out. How much moving is insane to me, being an adult, being 18. God, most days I don't even remember that I'm 18. I feel 14. I never thought I'd live to graduate highschool, I never planned on this, I never asked for this, I'm just making it up as I go and panicking the entire way through.
Sometimes the fact alone that I have bipolar disorder makes me want to kill myself. Just the fact that I'm broken, that I probably will be for the rest of my life, held together by meds and therapy-if I get lucky enough to find someone that'll treat me the way I actually need. Jesus. I can't imagine anyone else putting up with me romantically. I can barely put up with myself sometimes.