Demons

I’ve tried to write this article multiple times during my life, however is not something static I can simply explain, it’s not a story I can tell, it’s my past, my present and likely my future. Expect nothing but a narcissistic introspection which, to be honest, I have no fucking idea why I’m disclosing.

Sanity might be the most undervalued quality among those who have it while something the rest us, the ones who have to evaluate ourselves every time we make a decision, crave, detest and and are never sure if we have it. This has been my struggle, officially since the age of 18, when I was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder type II, and likely earlier, located somewhere along the mist my years of drug use were.

I try to go by the assumption that I’m not constantly impaired by delusions and disorders of thoughts, paranoia over being paranoid is still paranoia. In a sad ironic twist I discovered the more I wanted to be sane, the less likely I was to achieve it. So, I had to learn to trust the most unrealiable person I’ve ever met…me. Tomorrow classes start again, something that should be simple, it is for most people, at least it appears to be, maybe some anxiety, maybe some unwillingness, but at the end, most people do it because they have a goal, and this is how they are aproaching it.

While I don’t know what I want for the future, that doesn’t explain my current state. I’m panicking, my hands shake, I wanna cry, I wanna take all the pills I could possibly swallow, I wanna hide from the world so no one can see me in this pathetic state, but more than anything, I want it to stop, as much as the word normal has become somewhat of an insult, an insinuation that there is such a state which cultural marxists inmediatly try to position in their heriarchy, doesn’t change the fact that I wanna be fucking normal. I am so tired of this exercise of trusting and distrusting my own mind, of reacting with depression, panic or both at the most trivial of things. I wonder about the future, is this as good as it gets? I know I’m way better than I was even 2 years ago, let alone when I was in a psychotic clusterfuck of drugs and lack of a diagnosis. But even with that comparison, is this it?

I live under the assumption that yes, this is the best I’ll ever gonna be. I don’t do this out of pessimism, I do it because if I set a goal, specially a goal pertaining my mental health, and I fail, which is likely, I am scared I may kill myself, and I don’t wanna die yet, if I did I would be dead. I’ve thought about suicide enough to end 4 lifetimes, and I’m still here. I’ve overdosed on opioids, uppers and downers, and I didn’t die. I had a gun in my mouth, and I couldn’t pull the fucking trigger. My conclusion from that is, I simply don’t want to die. But like I said, I don’t trust myself, so I balance how much I can value my own input (and by extension, myself) and how much I can trust this medicated unstable brain that makes me act like a fucking lunatic at times.

Overall I’m better, this piece has been written in my head countless times, is how I check if I’m doing ok. And to be honest, I think I’ll continue to get better, I just can’t fully admit it, I can’t risk it. But this thought exercise, that at this time and reiteration I’ve decided to type, it helps to both check how well I feel I’m doing and how much can I expect the future to improve. And then I’ll get up, go to class, and continue moving forward. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m like a shark in that sense, if I don’t move, I die.

If someone actually reads this…thanks I guess…and sorry? I don’t fucking know.