I need to type away because no one can hear me out. I can't talk about it, I can't explain it to the people who are close to me, or were close to me as I've pretty much pissed all of them by now. I need to talk about it. I feel like there is this monster within me just eating my insides, that if I don't let it out it will kill me eventually. I don't know what the hell it is, what it's made from, when it first appeared. I don't know that it can be tamed by meds. I don't know if it's child abuse or chemical imbalances. I don't know if part of me does on purpose to sabotage what the other part of me hopes to achieve. I don't know what it is I have, if it's all in my head or if it's in my genes. I feel like screaming at everyone who was never able to understand, which means I feel like screaming at everyone because I don't know anyone that understands me. I feel like the solution is in the issues I've refused to deal with in the past, masturbating a man as a child and men as an adult, reproducing abuse over and over through prostitution. But I'm too inadequate to make the connections. But then the science steps in and says, well you behave this way because of a chemical imbalance. I seek sex because I'm hypersexual, because I'm going through mania. I feel like saying its all a crock of s*** and put your meds where I'm thinking. But then I don't want to discredit the whole bipolar argument which suits the deaf doctors alltogether because maybe it is what I have and I'm a blind fool. Maybe. Maybe I'm bipolar. Well why aren't the meds workin? Maybe I'm bipolar. Well why have those I've told all said it's all in my head, that I just need to deal with my undealth with issues? It's all in my head. Talk Nancy, tell me how you feel. I feel nothing, I only know facts and that's how I deal with my life. Nancy is 28 and X, Y and Z happened. Why can't I just take a test that says I have this, certified. End the crazy war between disciplines. Is Freud a fraud. Bipolar bologne. Why can't I tell anyone that I'm purposefully sabotaging my life and that now when I think of suicide its not just ideation. I keep thinking why not, why not not be around anymore. What will I miss. Why do I have to have class to deal with right now when I feel like I'm about to have a nervous breakdown, when I'm telling strangers that I feel like I'm having a nervous breakdown. Can't have the breakdown. Have to keep the straight face. Nancy succeeds, Nancy is smart, Nancy just needs to be stronger and less concerned with trivialities. Oh, no one knows its all a joke. I don't know anything, I have them all fooled. Well if I were bipolar would I be able to have everyone fooled for so long? Can't I just be this way because I'm too weak and that's why 7 years of psychoanalysis has yielded no cozzying up to happyness? This is just a long monologe with myself. I don't expect any answer. I needed to get it out of me because the razor blades are too near and I need to get A's in those classes. Freud would not notice the alliteration in razor blades and A's. The meds would block the real message. The world is freaken nuts and I'm stuck in it. It's all a dream and I'm never waking up. I don't believe in a cure anymore, it's all truly downhill from here. Make it fun. Going to the corner store to get beer. Alientated from everything, and now even from myself.
