venting

I’m not technically suicidal. I just wish I were dead. The relief. Or someone else who is normal. I am bipolar and I cannot be genuine in relationships. I cannot date. I keep myself to myself on my personal time. My best friends are all those I had as a young child. I was always funny (what fucked up person isn’t the funniest?) At work I am the funny hard worker. You’ll never see me bring depression or sadness into the workplace. No one would have a clue I’m drowning in my own ego. My friends don’t know anything. One actually complimented me just last week on appearing so happy and at peace. Yeah right. My finances are drowning me. The man I’m secretly in love with is indifferent. I’m alone 99% of the time. Mostly self imposed. I could hang around with friends or family but I choose not to. Here, alone, I can wallow and feel what it is I’m feeling. I can remove the mask. My family knows I am bipolar. I wish someone would call and offer tangible help. Help me with Christmas. Ask me if I’m okay. Ask me out for a coffee. Ask me how I am. I understand everyone has a life and worries of their own though. I’ve never felt worthy. Always just different. Not like anyone else. I see people living happy lives with such simple expectations and wonder if my mind is too complex. I’m rambling now. Just find writing cathartic. I am sad, lonely, worthless, stupid, fat, ugly and unlovable. That is where I am today.