It's been a while since I've really written my thoughts in a daylog. I wrote one of these a few days ago in a depressive episode, went to bed, and deleted it the next morning. Sometimes I write my thoughts when I'm not feeling like my usual self. I feel introspective when I'm angry. I used to keep it to myself, on a little flash drive. I still have that flash drive. Maybe it was better then. Sometimes I can't get the momentum going unless I'm writing to the void, though. Spewing my thoughts into an endless cyber-aether, it helps me process. It's better than nothing.

I will share some backstory so that you may better understand the background before I get into the "vent", so to speak.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, type 1, when I was eighteen years old. I was unstable, illogical, and volatile. At times, I was suicidal. I would go for days without sleeping; and I don't mean "extremely little sleep", I mean no sleep. I think one time I went for six days without getting one minute of shuteye. I felt ill. I needed to sleep. I wanted to sleep. Every neuron was firing at 100%, at all times, without cessation. I was immediately put on medication once I was diagnosed.

Back then, I was so hopeful. All I need is to get on medication and go to therapy, I'll learn to manage it, and it'll be "life as normal". Unfortunately, life is not always so easy; it has been many years, and I've been on and off so many different medications by now that I've lost track. Some of them were mild antidepressants, some of them were powerful antipsychotics.

I am no longer manic. That is a good thing. But, I still suffer from bipolar depression. We haven't found a medication that works against it, we've tried maybe a dozen or two by now. It isn't always awful, but it can get... bad. I've tried to keep it all buttoned-up. I don't think anyone thinks I'm happy, but nobody knows I'm miserable. I'm quiet. Polite. I share when asked, and keep to myself when not. This website is the only place that I've turned to vent at my lowest, really; here and my computer's files. Sometimes I'll tell a friend that I'm feeling a bit down, but never the full truth.

My sleep is still erratic so that I can't hold a job. I am in my twenties and living with my parents while my friends are graduated or in grad school. I am barely passing my university classes. When I was in high school so many years ago, I was very conscientious, but failure did not phase me -- this is because I knew that it was because I did not try my hardest at the time. Right now, I am trying my hardest, which is why this is so frustrating. My hardest simply is not enough even for sufficiency.

I want to be a kind person. I want to be a loving person. I want my friends and my family to feel appreciated, loved, cared about, and I want others to feel fond of me. I want to be happy, I want to be at peace, and I want peace to exude from me. I want to be a comfort to others. I am none of these things; It's very hard for me to express affection, people that know me probably don't consider me kind or unkind, and most people likely don't feel fond or unfond of me either way. I'm a neutral variable. 

People don't get it. It's not that I'm sad all the time. It's just that I'm so god-damn tired. All day, every day. Exhausted, to the bone. I don't feel sad; I feel joyless. Nothing really has... meaning, to it. No real happiness, just a dull ache, perpetual. It wears away at me. So many days, I'm just so weary and bitter from it all that I just get... neurotic, I guess. Angry at everything. I don't know how to cope, I don't want to drive my friends or family away or make them hate me by being completely open, so I just button up and gnaw on my bitterness. 

There's this song I've discovered recently, The Patient by Tool. In the song he compares his anxiety with a vampire. He then says "I'm still right here, giving blood, keeping faith. This tedious path I've chosen here, if there were no rewards to reap, I certainly would have walked away by now." I don't know what the writer's situation was, but God, that song describes a lot of how I feel. It's been years now, just feeling tired and lost, giving blood to the vampire, keeping faith that it will get better. Giving blood, keeping faith. Rinse and repeat.

"I certainly would have walked away by now." I've thought about it. Suicide is a temptation. I'm not convinced it's "morally wrong" in itself, but hurting people is, and I know that ending my suffering would inflict probably much greater suffering on many people close to me. I can't do that to them, I won't. I'll stick it out for their sake.

My parents probably feel pretty disappointed in me. I don't blame them. My brother flunked college, he didn't care. My sister's stumbling through life with a comparable apathy. She never found anything she loved, I don't blame her. My brother had other things going on in his life... I get it. From my parents point of view, decades of their lives had aggregated into an ultimate disappointment. From their point of view, I was their promising child. I had many passions, hobbies. I did well in school. I was motivated, conscientious. I didn't rebel. Now I, too, stagnate into nothing, alongside their hope in having some sense of pride in a child's accomplishments. All the effort, time, money it took to raise a kid, and all he's good for is friendship. Pathetic.

I'm trying to be a kinder person. It's difficult. I don't know if there's hope for me, but I'm trying. I love you, mother, father, brother, sister, my friends. Help me to love you better. Help me to be kind when it's difficult. I don't want to be angry and bitter. I don't want to be tired and weary. It's difficult. I don't know how. Help me.