Ruin yourself before they can.

If you don't have the discipline to hurt yourself then find someone who does.

Anticipate rejection because it is easier.

forever is forever is forever, but only if we're breathing this same air

take me away from a life that doesnt change

if you turn the bad in me into good again

saw my doctor yesterday evening and described to him how i've fucked up my life and hurt someone i love and got myself into (thankfully solvable) money problems and how i just want to feel stable for once in my life, he wrote me a prescription for these heavy duty mood stabilisers straight away and when i asked about therapy he told me to just go and take the stabilisers because he won't even consider referring me to therapy until im a lot more stable. have to get constant blood tests because they reduce your white blood cell count and can quickly turn toxic. i dont even care about that, i just want my brain to feel stable. i have never understood people who embrace mania or depression and view it as a tool to aid creativity and feel like their personality has been diminished or removed when on medication. its the worst thing in the world to me. its not who i am, its not a personality trait that i want to nurture, its a gross and debilitating illness that means that ive fucked up myself and other people and feel the weight of that every day

i've wasted the past year on people that don't really care about me, on being in situations that have made me feel miserable and used, and on implementing unhealthy coping mechanisms that have scrambled my brain and body almost past recognition. the only slim, small, positive thing that could ever come out of this is that human beings, at any moment, are always capable of change. if i can fuck up so much and make decisions that have literally brought me to the proverbial and terribly cliche 'rock bottom', then surely i can reverse it. i can claw my way out of this, somehow. this is the only thing that is keeping me from a full mental breakdown, knowing that i can change this awful situation that i've put myself, and the people that care about me, in. i've decided that the best way to do this is to remove myself from any and all potentially toxic situations. maybe it's not healthy to want to retreat so much, but i can't bear the thought of the next few months resembling the past year in any way whatsoever. i need a completely fresh start. i'd rather spend the next few months in my bedroom writing and reflecting and shutting myself off from the world, only leaving to work or eat or see my parents. i don't want to see anyone else. maybe that's unhealthy, i don't know. i lost my point of reference for healthy/unhealthy behaviours and coping mechanisms a long time ago. i just can't bear to be around anyone, really, or to be in this town. it's so late. i keep swinging between feeling almost positive, almost excited that i am starting my life over, and feeling terrified, disgusted, because isn't it all so late? i need to cling on to the positive feelings, to the idea that i can take this into my hands and reshape it in a way that is good and whole

i have hurt the one person who has always loved & supported me unconditionally so much and in a way that is pretty much unforgivable, through pure selfishness. never been this angry or disgusted with myself. my life is pathetic but it fits. i don't deserve anything else at the moment.

sometimes i get stuck in these dark, awful places and i dont know what to do with myself

But at least I author my own disaster

fuuuuuuuuckkkk i just wish i could get past this feeling of never being good enough

its strange how your mind can switch from completely loathing yourself to extreme delusions of grandeur. what feels like basically a lifetime of intense manic highs counteracted only with long depressive lows has stopped me from having any kind of fixed place of reference for myself - simply put i just dont know who i am. i cant define or describe myself to other people. i cant make any decisions about anything, especially my own personality. im so used to being up and down and nothing is ever constant, every feeling is eventually fleeting even if it feels like its going to last forever - and experiencing the same feeling over and over at different times is not the same thing as that feeling being an accurate representation of who i am or what my actual state really is. nothing feels real. everything feels too real. its exactly how david foster wallace described it, when people want you to get better - and that awful realisation that the only thing standing between yourself and a worthwhile life is and always has been only you. that the bell jar bears only your reflection. that you are drowning because you have anchored yourself down in the water. that the black hole definitely exists and it is wearing your face.

and i think thats why pretty much all of the things i write mention or focus on mental illness, because it has taken away so many of the things from me that mentally sane ppl use to identify themselves wow this is so enlightening but also depressing as fuck

remembering the time i told my sister i'd done something stupid and her first response was "did you finally try heroin"

whenever i start drafting emails to send submissions to various literary zines i always feel like i should preface it by saying, look, i'm a manic depressive with a paralysing fear of death and what that means is that my motivation or lack therefore is often dictacted by chemicals/forces out of my control and there will be weeks when all i do is write furiously and your inbox will literally be overflowering with words or ideas but then there will be weeks, even more weeks, when waking up is exhausting and frustrating and all i can bear to do is lie in bed and listen to the biggest lie by elliott smith and play bubblegame.org

i want to quit my job and earn money by writing vague dark almost poems about being broke and unloveable and depressed and insane and how all love is unrequited and casual sex is almost always bad and miserable and how the fuck am i turning 26 and still living in my childhood bedroom spending my free time binge drinking and watching the x files on repeat

so fucked up how i perceive everything as rejection just to be on the safe side

its strange how predictable people are, even the ones that you don't expect (thus adding an air of unpredictability, i suppose? unpredictable in their predictability. i don't know) how even the people who you think you connect with on some other level that feels not even entirely human are still forever drawn to the thin the pretty the delicate the intelligent the creative the privileged the articulate the mentally stable. and it's like...i am a woman but i dont even feel like i meet the basic prerequisites most of the time. i have heavy thighs and thin wrists and bruises and scars and crooked teeth and a beer belly and bitten fingers and shitty casual sex and a predilection for chain smoking when im drunk which is pretty much every weekend and a darkness that blooms out of me like a fucking beacon and a weight inside of me that i cant even begin to explain or carry or even really acknowledge

it sounds dumb and predictable but when i really think about my future i think i want it to be the white picket fence deal, which is something i'd never admit to anyone in real life. i don't know why i find it so shameful. i guess i'm still stuck in this bullshit mentality that struggle and hardship and wanting to change the world at the cost of your own happiness is much nobler, or something. but i want a small terraced house with a garden and dogs and someone i love and in this daydream i work with children but am also a somewhat successful writer and a closet is turned into a work room with plants and a sofa and globes and my typewriter. and it's not too far to visit my parents and i'm sober except for the rare times when i have a glass of gin and i spend my free time reading, at free exhibits, going to lectures, sleeping in beautiful outside areas, creating things, walking my dog, happy in my own company. i have a sweet old fashioned car and i don't care about what i look like and maybe there is a beach involved. i just want a lifetime of sustained contentment, something i don't remember ever having. or failing that, just a moment. a moment of pure, sustained happiness.

i'm so tired of being constantly disoriented by my own sadness

“The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.”

how to accurately communicate "i only slept with him because i wanted you"

Never was, never is, going to happen

i haven't felt like this in so long. its strange but not unpleasant

2014, the weirdest year of my life. so unfinished. 2015 has started strangely. mostly i just wish that i was at the library, working the front desk, laughing at mills & boon titles with courtney. or singing rhymes with the kids on tuesdays. or falling half in love with one of my colleagues. i don't know. in the space of a year i went from a masters level university student living on my own and studying for a well-paying job to an underemployed drunk living in my childhood attic bedroom. and guess which made me happier?
now i'm unemployed, still living in my attic bedroom, still single, but not drinking, not craving disruption and destruction in the same way that i used to. i think of the summer and it all seems okay, most of the time. i just want to be with my sister, listening to old lo-fi music and drinking 99 cent red wine in porto on the beach. i want to be driving us round different cities and states and countries, staying in cheap hostels, writing bullshit on a borrowed computer and not worrying about where my next paycheck is coming from for once in my life. summer, soon