I'm so glad that this place is here. I'm a writer and I'm doing this thing again where I can't sleep because I put down my phone and then I have a remembrance or a realization so I pick it back up and keep writing. I'm also reading this book that's just so perfect. It's everything. It's somehow on all the right frequencies. I don't want to sleep because everything else is just so pleasurable. If I go to sleep, then I have to wake up and go to work. Work's not bad, work's good, the last job I had before this I got fired for having a psychotic break too soon in my time there, I got fucking fired for having a psychotic break. And this place isn't perfect, but it's not that bad. Not that that's where the bar should be.

&amp;#x200B;

I'm fine. I'm not looking for advice and I'm not seriously concerned. I just need a space to be a bit crazy. I've been depressed and was hoping for some mania. This might be it. The meds I'm on have me locked down pretty tight, I haven't had an upswing since my lamictal dose got increased. Month ago? 

&amp;#x200B;

The person I'm infatuated with emailed me back today, too, and I'm all a mess from things going right.

  I mean. Not all all. My ADHD-having ass is putting something major off. Analytics on my website show my mom and aunt and uncle have been trying to keep tabs on me, based on geography. I'm fine, I just got sick of my mental illness never being bad enough for my mom to give a shit. She always had to win in the game of who's got it worse, and my aunt and uncle enable her. Stopped talking to her right after I got out of the hospital after I had the psychotic break that got me fired (after quitting a different job because my boss called 911 on me when I didn't pick up the phone or respond to emails between 9:30-3:30 so the fucking cops showed up to do a wellness check). 

&amp;#x200B;

Fuck hormones. Fuck hormones so much. If I did not have an IUD I would be so much more screwed. Sometimes the thought that it'd kill me to have a kid makes me really sad.

&amp;#x200B;

Sorry for the potpourri of thoughts. One time I got clocked real fast for having ADHD, took one conversation. Compared with the decades of waiting before not getting an actual diagnosis because my PTSD is too bad. I'm like four fucking mental illnesses stacked atop one another wearing a trench coat: bipolar I, ADHD, PTSD, and excoriation disorder. I'm sick of pretending to be a normal person. I'm sick of having to pretend to be normal. I'm not. But I have to try sleep so I can wake up and go work my job. 

&amp;#x200B;

My love to whoever invented the phrase "grippy sock jail." Xoxoxo.