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Another sleepless night. Sigh. I have just thrown my hands up at the whole concept. I sleep when I sleep. I have noticed that obsessive thoughts run through my brain, as part of this incorrigible illness, and I am learning to just submit to it. I give up. Completely. Wholly. I often wonder why I try so hard. Why I go that extra mile. A fool’s dream.

I sit here and contemplate my existence on another lonely Thursday night at 1:34 am. I just don’t know what to do anymore. The pieces of my life come together, fall apart, and come together again. I am so grateful, unbelievable grateful for the people that have come into my life. Even the possibility of romance too perhaps? Is that where I go wrong? Do I rush in too quickly before readjusting my expectations? That’s something to consider while I sit here and contemplate.

Often than not, people are seeking things. They are seeking love, jobs, friendships or just a need for connection. But what happens when we stop seeking? Do we lose our humanity? My best friend is going out of town for the Labor Day weekend, which leaves me alone for 4 days. I have forgotten what it is really like to be alone. And I think I really need to sit with myself and reassess that. There was a point a few months ago, when I wasn’t writing as much, where I would sit and stare at the 4 walls and just think. Just think of my whole place in the universe. What the heck am I doing here? Honestly, what is the point of all this? Do you ever stop and think, “why in the hell do I even get up in the morning”? I haven’t ridden the wave of bipolar depression in quite some time, so I might end up back there again. I feel myself slowly slipping back. The sleeping thing well, I just give up. I won’t even bother trying to deal with that anymore, because I tried again tonight and failed miserably.

My life, as small as it is, is empty. Devoid of the life and wonder it once had. I sit here, nights, days at my computer. When I do go outside, I just rush back home to my little hole in the universe. I desire something, anything, that could bring the spark and sparkle back into my eyes.  I had inspiration lately, which I am glad for. I am enjoying getting to know Mr. M. I have so many riches yet I feel so poor. Am I greedy? A masochist glutton for punishment?  Why do I do this? Obsess? Question? Ponder?

I need to fill the void. I need the magic. And I don’t think any “one” person can give me that. I need to give it to myself. I need to be kinder to myself, to see the beauty within as well as out. I need to sit with myself and reflect what my purpose is, and how I can gain satisfaction in my life. Too long have I sat in the shadows and let an illness that helped obliterate my self-esteem stop me from becoming a better ME.  Too long as I have watched the calendar pass by month after month, year after year, without any sign of a change or meaning to my existence. I search for hours on end for a spark of a connection when I am already connected? What the %$^&?

The newness of a new person. Its what we all want, its what we all crave. Then that initial spark dies and you are just left with a person. Is that what went wrong with online dating? Is that newness the addiction? Mr. M told me that his last date said he wasn’t as “cool” as she thought he would be. When in fact he is so cool, the Fresh Prince has nothing on him. Is that why people fail? Because they are looking for the coolest of the cool? Is that why I can’t connect, because I am just as uncool too?

I sit here, and wait. Wait to be challenged, excited. When I am the lazy one. I have to go out there and challenge myself. I am such a hypocrite, even when I am writing and talking to myself. I want to illicit and invoke change but I don’t do a damn thing about it. I am probably the biggest procrastinator I know. God, I need to find a job. I need to be doing something, contributing something to society again, working with people and getting myself out there. Reading and playing flute in the park used to bring me such joy, now I can’t even do that. I have no joy anymore. Where did it all go? I think I have blamed bipolar too long too. I have defined myself by the illness. I am not bipolar I HAVE an illness that is defined as bipolar. And you know what? With all the pills, doctors and all the shit they have been feeding me has it helped me any? Where has it gotten me?  Alone, miserable and probably more lost than I have ever been. I see truth but no logic, like this is one big dream and I will wake up and laugh at the sheer madness of it all.

But I think ultimately, I need to make peace with myself. I am intelligent, beautiful, with so much to offer the world. I am not living up to my full potential. I am trapped in a Hell of my own making. Its time to break free. I just need to get up and just walk out that door….

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.” – Bilbo Baggins.