Sheesh this illness...

I keep screwing up my life more and more financially, socially, and professionally.

There's a little voice in the back of my head that says "Wait, stop, no!" but it's so quiet and quickly ignored.  


I keep lying to my family and say everything in my life is fine; but it's totally not fine.  
I know it's not fine, I have no job and no friends but somehow I just keep saying "Oh well" to it  
and letting this manic beast inside of me drive the burning car.  


I want to scream and cry, but all I can do is laugh. I want to state that I'm definitely not suicidal, far from it, but I'm afraid of myself.  


It's like I'm fucking everything up and watching the tragedy in third person laughing about it, but I'm the one who suffers as a result of it!  


My family doesn't even know about my diagnosis...  
How could I tell them that I lie to them all the time and manipulate the fuck out of them for my own comfort?  
I can't, they have to keep believing I am the character I portray when we see each other.  
They can't see me for the broken stigmatized illness.

I don't want the meds, I just want to be normal.