-be in a high (hypomania)
-being overly social
-see people being social
-scared, not able to interact properly, seclude myself, feel left out, feel as though I’m surrounded by fakes, people who only love me for the moment
-at this point I know a low WILL come but I can’t feel it yet.
-feel extremely envious
-feel extremely alone
-extremely alone
-just… Alone
-I know I’ve got family that loves me but it’s not exactly the same. They love me because I’m theirs. I’m their dna, part of their pack, even if I mess up they will eventually forgive me because I am their creation
-I want to be loved from a different viewpoint
-like “I met you and I like how you are, I want to be around you of my own free will. I’m doing this because I actually enjoy you.”
-no real friends
-one, I guess. But she’s not a very emotional person. I know she cares about me, but in some ways she’s almost robotic. She finds happiness in homework. She does a lot of school work. She finds it hard to find time for me. I am her closest friend, but we both know she doesn’t need me, and doesn’t particularly feel the need to be around me. We’ve just been friends for so long, it’s how it is.
-I had friends who liked to hang out with me last year, but they found new friends elsewhere and left me behind. I was always a third wheel anyway, but at least they invited me places.
-they left me so easily, they must not have loved me very much… If at all
-relationships feel pointless
-love feels like it’s just chemicals
-I can’t take it
-it’s such a scary thought, that no one will ever love me in some real way.
-I just want to be genuinely loved by someone.
-being alone is beginning to feel overwhelming
-“I don’t like being alone. I’ve just gotten good at it.”
-begin to scrabble around in my mind, looking for leads, anyone, anywhere, how do I make them my friend
-I can’t do it. Everyone who comes to mind has something about them that could make them “fake.”
– there’s nowhere I can go that wouldn’t require already having a friend with me
-I can’t do this
-things become even more overwhelming, I begin to involuntarily repeat phrases in my mind. “Alone, alone, alone…”
-repeat things my biological mother has said to me; “you deserve the consequences of your actions”; “you’re a monster of a child”; “monster”; “you should be an actress.. -I can’t fake throwing up- ..tell that to the thousands of bulimics”
-so scared that I will never be loved
-what am I supposed to do
-I’ve dug a hole I can’t get out of
-I’m going deeper
-I’m starting to realize my low, for real. But it’s too late now.
-My mind feels consumed.
-I hide, usually in my room.
-close the door. Lean against it. Fall. Cry. Every time.
-try to cry quietly.
-panicking
-it’s about to happen. It’s only minutes, seconds away.
-it happens. I’m gone. It’s only negative feelings driving my mind.
-cut, burn, take copious amounts of NyQuil
-anything so I can go to sleep and wake up in control
-broken, but in control
-I had always heard when I first began cutting that people did it to feel like they’re in control
-I didn’t understand then. I had started because of a phrase my stepdad had told me once; “if you stub your toe, pinch your arm, your toe won’t hurt anymore.”
-I was hurt emotionally. So I made it go away.
-I get it now.
-when you pinch your arm you control the pain.
-I think it’s just gotten so out of hand…
-but I need the control back. I’m so scared of what I’ll do if I don’t get it back right away. If I hold out the thoughts get worse. If I hold out from cutting, I’ll burn, if I hold out from burning, I’ll take they NyQuil. I’m scared of what comes after NyQuil.
-NyQuil can make your stomach bleed. NyQuil can cause seizures. NyQuil can cause respiratory failure.
-NyQuil could kill me.
-I don’t think there’s ever been a NyQuil death.
-it’s like the deeper I get, the more I need to have control again.
-I don’t know what to do with that.
-but usually, I cut, and then I go to sleep. And I wake up, and I’m sad, but at least I’m in control.
-I have no friends but at least I’m in control of the pain from that
-I’m not loved but at least I’m still alive
-at least there’s still some chance

Bipolar II has ruined me.