2:24 PM


Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Quite simply, I've been depressed. More specifically, I've been wallowing in a deep, black pit that I have yet to see the light at the end of. You see, all that drama with George stirred up a lot of old problems that I thought I had resolved. He has yet again successfully made me feel like I and everyone around me is better off with me dead. I've almost completely quit making diapers, working on Chris' and my business scheme, and am close to quitting school and even getting up out of bed in the morning. It all seems pointless... pointless to even try... because no matter how hard I try or how well I do I will always be worthless, I will always be fucked over by people like him, and everything will always be all my fault.

There's David. He believes in me, he loves me, and I trust him. But at the moment I feel like he's freaking insane to believe in me or love me, and it's just a matter of time before he gets frustrated and gives up just like George did. And then whatever happens will be all my fault again. I feel like David is this beautiful package... with a bomb inside waiting to go off. That sounds like a negative thing about David, but it's not. It's a negative thing about me. Something is wrong with me. Something about me makes people go crazy. Something about me makes people detonate on the spot. And it's only a matter of time before I make him explode.

I see it happening already. Right now I'm sitting in bed while he cleans the house. Why am I not cleaning the house? Because I don't have the energy to. I'm weak and sick to my stomach and I hate myself for it because it's no excuse. Because it's stuff like this that is going to make him pop. I belong in a mental hospital and I've told him that but he won't let me go. Meanwhile I know this entire time that he's just going to blame me when he can't take it any more, even though I'm trying to get him right now to let me go before that happens.

Maybe when you're bipolar, it's God's way of telling you you don't deserve to live. Maybe when you're bipolar, you shouldn't even attempt to have a life... you should just off yourself and get it over with. The world doesn't forgive transgressions, no matter what the reason for them is. I may be laying in bed because I'm having a depressed episode, but in the big picture it doesn't matter. All that matters is I'm laying in bed. And for that I don't deserve anything good. I don't deserve my family. I deserve to die.

Or maybe George just broke what little of me was left. Maybe it's just my time to go before I cause any more damage with my toxic self.

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