I really don't know how to respond considering there isn't really a response needed. Somehow GSS has made me understand what I do to my friends back at home. A couple of months ago Linds yelled at me to just sit down with Becca and Phil and end it. I tried but somehow I still wanted everything to be perfect. I love trying to reach perfection and since I'm so damn stubborn I'm oblivious to what that does to everyone around me. Josh and Linds, you two are amazing with each other and everyone around you so it's our turn, and mine especially to return what you have given me, love and kindness. Thank God for both of you because Linds is right, you did offer me everything but she's also right in that I need to work it out to a finality. By the time I get home everything will be worked out, that's a promise I make to you two. This college trial period has helped. I wish I could understand, truly, everything you two are going through but I can't and rather than annoy you with trying to find out I'm going to ask you to remember this until we're ready to try to bridge the gap btwn the worlds: I love you two more than anything in this world and I would give anything up for you two.
That doesn't mean that I'm throwing phil out that door and you're right, if that is the biggest problem than screw me. I've made my decision and Josh, thanks for the resolution.

If you haven't read all the posts until this one, I'd suggest you do. Stop groaning, just read, and with an open mind, all of you. I can't tell you where we're coming from, but I can say very poetically, yet truly, that we come from a place that reeks of decay and fright, a dead fear of something we can't give a name to.

Ah yes, normal. A term used by the failed experiment called psychology to encompass an average. Who defines normal? It's the same people that define what certain words mean. Who defines what "pen" means? Did you all read "Frindle"? If so, you'd know the answer. It was a person, the same creature that breaths, fucks, shits, eats, just like all the rest of us, no different, no more safe from dying, getting lucky, or anything than any of the rest of us. It's someone that still has a seizure threshold, has to pay taxes, keeps a circadian rhythm, all that good shit. Normal is over-rated and pointless.

No one can see inside like this, we may be outcasted to some extent...so what? We already talked about this before, yet still, this might be good for everyone else to hear: why bleed yourself over someone that's going to think they're better than you because you have a "problem"? The only difference between us and those people is that ours has a given name in a failed experiment/psychology book. Someone who says they don't have problems is a fucking liar. There's their problem right there: denial of problems. If you don't have them, you will. If you deny them, you're fucked. Life is all about accepting their occurance and taking them as they come, depressed as one could be or no.

I say down with the distinction, I say fuck psychology and their godawful classifications, I say separate the diagnosis branch from the treatment branch, because its current incarnation is causing all within it quite a bit of isolation, self-doubt. It's in some people's nature to doubt everyone else, this is only making it worse.

Yet still, they will not, no one's really listening to me, really. All I can tell you is my two favorite words in the whole world when it comes to things like this: FUCK IT. Fuck them, sorry you all, but fuck you. If you don't like me, blow me. If you can't deal with it and shut the fuck up about it, even if you were my best friend before, then suck on my goddamn goads because you are a complete fucking retard. And people, that's just the way it goes, that last sentence may have been a bit abrasive, but that's what everyone really needs to hear: the cold, hard truth of it, just like life really is. It might be better for some of us to hear it that way rather than me just pussy-footing around it with demure, blasé language than to tell it to you with all the hatred and anger I can conjure from myself, and I did. You need to hear that I don't care who you are, I don't care how many of you have to go before I get it all straight: if you can't accept it, then you're the one that has problems, you're not helping me and I don't need you, and more over, you're not helping yourself.

I can see the day people like that wake up and figure out: "oh my god, what have I done?" That awful, awful day you come to realize that everyone is the same, everyone's fucked up as you are, nobody understands a motherfucking thing, everyone's drowning in something. Yeah, we all are. But the fun of life is taking that next big breath, and if we can respect everyone's right to take it, and respect the fact that no one really can have real dignity while they're drowning, then it's all right.

Life is about the right now, it's about coming to accept that there's a lot of shit here, and the only way to make yourself happy is to do just that: MAKE. No one was put here to give you anything. You can choose your miseries and your elations, even if you're messed up like we are. We can fight the feelings, we don't have to be one way or the other, we can just be ok. I don't have to be manic or depressed, I can just be in the middle. It's not all brain chemistry. If that were the case, we'd never fucking be alright, no one really understand the brain all that well.

Humanity is better than every other species becase we have a choice. Life is about taking that choice and making the most of it, respecting everyone else's choices, and choosing the things that will really make us happy, maybe not now, maybe not for a long time, but sometime. And in the mean time, we can life with the happiness of knowing that we made the right decisions. Everything can really work out if you know what your options are.

The secret is just taking a step, whether you know where it leads, whether you can walk or not. MAKE your way, and you can take another great big breath. Hell, one day you may even reach the shore for good.

Normal- I'm not sure if we'll ever get back to normal. We've seen the bottom of the bottomless pit and have wallowed about in it for a while. We've been scarred by it and marked as "different" because of it. Sure, maybe one day we might be able to survive the climb upwards and perhaps get a foot on a ledge long enough for us to peek inside normal for a bit. But actually breach the border of normal, the border so loved and protected by society against people like us? No, maybe we'll be able see into normal, and perhaps be seen by normal, but never again will we be part of normal. Once you're this far out of normal, you'll never be brought back in. Isn't that what is so great about being normal? Seeing that there are people who aren't like us, and knowing that they are better than us for it? About half of the people who regularly come to this blog are normal, the other half obviously are not. I give everybody one chance to guess who's in and who's out. Every one of you will be able to give the right answer, and have given the right answer before, just like the rest of society will be able to do in the future. You are still welcome in the circle of normal people- we have been excommunicated. You have to realize that we will never again be able to see eye to eye. There will always be that gap between us. Those of us not in that lovely little circle have to protect ourselves from it. There are so many of you and so few of us- we could never stand and fight you, but together we are at least able to protect ourselves against the the brunt of your blows, those that you don't even mean to hit us with, and yet you do, for no other reason than you are still inside the circle and can't quite understand those of us who are outside of it. Hell, those of us outside can't even necessarily understand ourselves, let alone the others on the outside. We can understand them better than we can those on the inside, because some part of ourselves can relate to them. Very little inside of us can relate to you now. Maybe more of us as time goes by, but not right now. This is basically the same thing Josh said: "I'm too tired to really understand anything but depressed people."

Yall are so busy with your own little problems that you can't take the time to see the rest of the world struggling; your problems are no bigger, and frankly, quite a bit smaller than the rest of the world's. Think about it: anyone who has the time to mull over the same miniscule problem for three freaking years, even when she's sitting on the solution that she's had the majority of the time because millions of people have given her the same advice, but she still doesn't take it because she's getting something out of having this problem, then YOU DON'T HAVE ENOUGH PROBLEMS. God gave you that gift for a reason, it's not one everyone has, so for Christ's sake, find someone who has way more than their share and help unburden them. Or find yourself a decent problem. I think the former would be the way to go on that one, but hey, it's your call.

Congrats, that was all my response to Josh's second paragraph. On to the third and fourth:

I'm right in there with Josh on this one (except the part about his catching a lot of shit from me- I was/am the one throwing it at him). We have been through hell, and aren't really all back yet. I'm not quite sure if we'll ever be all back, but that's another rant all together (see above and change a few words around). Point of that being, we have seen and experienced things that I wish to God no one else would ever have to experience. Moreover, we are sitting right on the brink of going back- it really could go either way. I'm probably just speaking for myself now, but I know that the smallest thing could completely put me right back where I was. Like last night, my mom said something about wanting me to do more around the house, and I completely broke down. So to go back to Josh's post, quit with the melodrama already. Everybody knows that's all it is anymore. You have no more of my sympathy, you have no more advice, you have no more people to gripe to. I have had it with this situation, and I know Josh has too. You have a problem, yes. But it's not ours to fix, and we're not going to. We have given you more advice over the years than it should have ever taken to fix this problem. You are getting something out of having this problem, and I no longer have any qualms about telling you what they are. You get the attention that you want more than anything, you get the melodrama you seem to thrive on, you get the feeling that things are bad and it's up to you to fix them- it satisfies your need to feel important, and you have your need to be needed fulfilled. That may be all great to you and everything, but you are more than burdening us with this. If this was something that lasted less than a week, we'd probably be right there with you. But it's not. Part of this is our fault for enabling you to keep this thing going. I assume you know what that is, otherwise I'll leave it for Josh to explain- I'm pretty sure he probably heard the same rants I did in the hospital. Quite frankly we've enabled every single person we know just about it to manipulate us and to put us in the position to carry not only our own problems, which are pretty damned heavy, but yours also- which honestly, are pretty light, but they add up quickly. You will only get rid of this problem when you want to, so nothing I say here will really change what's happening. But you do need to know that you have the means to solve this problem today- it's possible- or it can rot you from the inside out, but no longer do you have us to lean on. I refuse to further enable you to take advantage of everything I have ever offered you: empathy, a listening ear which would listen to you ramble for hours on end, a place you could always turn to no matter how messy things got, and most of all a real friendship. I can't be any of this to you anymore until all this is solved- it's bringing me down too hard, too fast. Maybe when the disadvantages of this problem outweigh all the things you are getting out of it, you will have the motivation to solve the problem. What I am doing now is the exact opposite of enabling. I refuse to be part of this dysfunctional support system any longer. This is the point where I might used to apologize for what I was doing, but not now. Enabling a person to continue doing something this stupid is a curse I wouldn't wish on my enemies, and certainly do not wish upon you. So when you have fixed this problem, I will be right here- nothing will have changed, but enabling you to put yourself, Josh, and me into a situation where you will keep going down the same road you're on now, and quite possibly trigger our problems to the point that we end up where we came from- that is just not something I am able nor willing to do right now.

I think Linds is abso-fuckin'-loutely correct, so fuck it. Man, don't even delete that post. Let me tell you why this is so good to be said: it's true. The truth fucking blows a lot of times (remember me yesterday, blank stare and opposition to your every words about my dad, true as they were?) and it's hard to swallow, but that's about it. IF PEOPLE ARE REALLY GOING TO JUDGE YOU OVER WHAT YOU SEE AS THE TRUTH OF THE SITUATION, THEN FUCK THEM. Sorry guys, you really have to understand:

Whereas some of you have come to an edge and taken a peek over, we have jumped our asses over, landed hard, now we're trying to get back the hell up over and rejoin what the rest of the world would call "normal." Chaos would be a great word right now. That's all the hell it is. It's a big fucking vortex of uncertainty and self-doubt, fear of the outside world and the inside, all that good shit you hear from Faulker and Eliot (if you interpret it right).

So basically, we have the right to be assholes and tell everyone to just blow us. Let's not all forget, and again, sorry to be an asshole, but I am a suicide kid, a very swingy bipolar, and I'm not all the hell fixed yet. It wouldn't take all that much to bring me back to the old nightmare called the unit. Life has been pretty docile so far...yar, I caught a lot of shit with Linds, but I coped, I didn't come out broken down again. I don't know if I'll be that lucky again, and, being blatantly honest, I NEVER WANT TO GO BACK, NEVER THE FUCK EVER. I would rather eat my own right arm than go back, so long as I got some oregano and a nice baste. Hell, not even that, so long as I didn't have to go back.

All I'm asking is that you please don't send us back, in effect: acknowledging the hard but entirely factual truth of Lindsey's post.

We don't know anything about this anymore, I'll really tell you that taking a very objective look at the whole situation, the thing has be cojoned with so much fucking melodrama it's since ceased to float. That is a problem. That is not my problem.

I'm glad to hear that you've come to some resolution, Rosie. If it were me, let's just say, I would tell Phil to shut the hell up, his incessant bitching about the way shit should be isn't making anything better. Sorry bud, but that's the fucking way it is. Yelling at someone, being pissed, these things don't help. People NEVER positively respond to anger! You know this on some level as well as I. You'd only respond to it bad if you were codependent, and even then, you'd still secretly hate it.

It really doesn't matter who hurt who, it's fucking over. The horse is fucking dead, stop kicking him. He really doesn't feel it, I promise. If Philip does go off and fuck with someone else, guess what? Fuck 'em. Do you know why? Because if he did, he would be a worthless asshole (and Philip, if you read this, and if you act upon this, you are a fucking worthless asshole, and you know it, otherwise, you're fine). So in that case, utilize my two favorite words and move on.

Fuck him

And that's all. I really can't help Becca, she doesn't want to be helped yet, and truly, I don't want to try with someone that doesn't want it. I can't help you because there's nothing you need, and nothing I can give you. I can't batten down your qualms, and it really doesn't matter what I say, you know. It's just your ability to grasp the tangible and the real has ceased to exist, therefore, nothing I say will reek of valid like it usually does. And really, I couldn't anyway, because that would require me to understand, and really, I'm too MOTHERFUCKING TIRED to understand much besides depressed people (Linds, my mom and dad, most of the rest of my family), which makes sense cuz I've been there, and manic people, which is no one but me, and even then, I rarely understand it, I just endulge it. It's the only buttfucking time I want to move to any great extent. FUCK BIPOLAR, TIS BRINGING THE GAY. It's going to make me fat, and I'm going to be pissed.

so really, that's it. i'm tired of pressing shift, so i just quit capitalizing. har har. if it really matters, i'll go back and fix it later. but really, just fuck it all man. i hope you find it in yourself to really not worry about this, i can tell that you don't, no matter how much you try. a lie never helped anybody, especially one to yourself. go look up the "serenity prayer," you may already know it, but it would be really helpful if you don't, and if you do, you would do well to remember it.

Linds, aye. Lordy, I wouldn't wish trileptol, and effectively bipolar, on anybody, especially you. It really brings one to be learnedly helpless. You get good, then you get bad, and it never fucking ends. You figure out that whatever you do, you're going to come back down, and it sucks. It also helps to be up so damn late like this :) It's time to start.

I love you all, but some of you are making me pretty fucking batty :) (all of my heartfelt on that last sentence)

And Linds, remind me to delete this too. I probably should. I read yours and just nodded in agreement. I more laughed because I'm really getting a kick out of this whole "I'm going to eat your soul, mafucka!!" bitchy phase. It's about damn time! The more people you own, the better you feel, so let's have assholes for every meal. Yar, it's really late and I'm really tired. Peace.

Ok, so I finally have enough energy to post a bit, but I'm not exactly in the best mood, but it's usually a trade-off, so whatever. First off, I agree 100% with Josh on just about everything except the whole mania bit, cause I'm not lucky enough to get that. (Good job for all of you who actually picked up on that bit of sarcasm.) I'm tired of the whole Becca-Philip-Rosie situation too, and if I hear one more thing about it, I swear I will have a reason to go back to that hellhole they call a hospital. Second thing, which Josh definitely already knows about: For the most part, the reason I went to the hospital is because I didn't feel emotion- God, I love intellectualization- but they broke my mask, so now I am a real bitch to just about everybody until I learn to actually control this stuff. I either don't feel at all or feel way too passionately; it's pretty much an all-or-nothing situation. I'm also completely self-centered and don't care about anybody but myself, with an exeption or two others thrown in occassionaly, so don't load me down with your problems yet. Wait until I can get my own problems dealt with first. It may take a while. Find someone else to dump the crap that no one will care about in 20 years on- but not Josh, he's got enough stuff to deal with between the two of us. (yes, Rosie, that DOES include you)Third, the reason I haven't actually talked to anybody but Abby and Josh yet is because I've got a freakin' social anxiety thing that won't go away, and quite frankly, Abby didn't make things too much better in that department. Remind me to thank her later. I did finally make it to a restaurant today, which was a miracle, but all the same...
Anyway, congratulations to anyone who had time to read this before I remember that I wrote this post and delete it. Then again, my memory is not so hot these days. These drugs have me fucked up [refer to Josh's post here] to an extreme. Welbutrin is making me insane, Trazadone is about to kill me, and I get a new one called Effexor here in the next week or so. I'm jealous of the Trileptol- that is one amazing drug. Everybody but me got it- I almost did, but stupid Indukuri decided that it may not be the best thing for me, so I get Effexor, which is basically the same drug with worse side effects. Look them up sometime, they're really fun. Ok, now I'm rambling and the Trazadone has kicked in so these last few sentences have probably not been so coherent, but I don't really care. I'm going to bed. Oh, and Rosie, why are you showing people the blogs? Josh, if I haven't deleted this by tomorrow morning or so, you may want to do that before I really offend people. Of course, you'll get a big laugh out of it first. Oh well. Good night.

Josh, bro, call me. I love you and please please please know that with all your heart. I know what you've been saying about Phil is true. I have a guy here that just read that post (parts of it) and he said the exact same thing to me 2 days ago. I have to figure this out by myself. I have to know for sure that he's what I need and want in my life. I figured out here that I really don't need Phil to survive. I've found my circle of friends here and I'm comfortable. Yes I call him but the past 2 days I haven't thought of him...which is strange for me. I have to decide Josh but for right now I'm going to enjoy Knoxville. I love the people here and I love the environment. I'm not going to worry about what happens in B-wood for 3 more wks. I love you all but for me it's knoxville now. You've all told me to live...well I am. I'm going to stay connected to you but for a month Phil and I will seriously keep in on the DL. We've decided no matter what we'll stay friends and above everything else is friendship...number one forever. That's how it is now. Thanks for loving me but you know most of all I call the last one. I know I don't have a huge choice but I choose time. I choose GSS for the month. Love you.

Let me tell you a little story about a man called Stability.

Well, not really. But the key word here is "stability." Embrace constancy, it's the nepethe for the human condition. Think about your body: it wants homeostasis, a point of norm. If you keep messing with your environment and deciding to change too much (or thinking you can, which is worse), no matter how good the control feels right now, if it's real or not, you're going to wear yourself out.

And moreover (and more importantly; no offense, but I am a suicide kid), it's wearing me out. Honestly, pick a path and stick to it. Remember what happened to the kid who wandered too far off the path because he thought he could come back without any problems: messily devoured by wolves and then peed on. I don't think, dead or alive, I would much like to have something urinating on me, would you?

This really has gone on long enough, all of you. You win, stop the guilt. It's either him or her, it's not both. Sometimes we get denied an option because not everyone thinks alike. That is NOT within the scope of your control. If Becca is going to be depressed and guilt's flying all over the place, I'm sorry. But that's nothing you can feasibly control. This may sound like an asshole thing to say, but think about it: even if you say, "Fuck off Philip, you gay!" it's still not going to make him like Becca, and you're not going to have him either. What more, she's going to think you broke up with him out of pity for her, and she's STILL not going to like you (and if Becca's reading this, aren't I right?!) because she's going to see it. Something has to get lost, it's called acceptable casualties. I wish just as much as you do that the world was colored pebbles and bunnies and lilies singing in the field, but since it isn't, we have to make the best out of a shit situation and forget about the rest. Things don't come back to haunt you if you don't let them. It's our fear of the past that creates the problems of the future. WRITE THAT DOWN ON YOUR LIFE. I think I'm even going to post that on all of the blogs and my Xanga for the hell of it. That was damned insightful, and true, what more.

But really, make a decision and stick to it. The more you doubt yourself, the more indecision you have, the more nothing gets done, the more you just hurt the situation til you don't have a choice anymore like you do now, get me? I really hope you read all this, really.

IF YOU JUST SCROLLED THROUGH, ROSIE: READ ALL OF THIS RIGHT NOW, TIS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD. AFTER THIS PART, YOU CAN QUIT.

Alright, on to me :) I'm fucked up on trileptol. This shit is killing me. I'm a fucking walking zombie with some hot looking Chucks on. I swear, my head hasn't spun this much since the last time I stuck my head in a dryer...which has been...oh, let's see...never, right. I seriously want to blow up. I hate fucking being a bipolar, it sucks a fucking nut. I'm really really super-fucking manic about now. It makes me ultra-insightful and fun, but I really fucking hate it. I say fuck a lot, people tend to like me less sometimes when they say something that could be taken the slightest bit offensively. I seriously can't type "seriously," or anything on the first try, for that matter. And the worst part of it is: I'm out the fuck of fucking options. I have ONE LEFT: lithium carbonate, and that requires me to go stay in the FUCKING UNIT AGAIN! Fuck me! Like hell they'll take me back! AAAAGGH! I'm going to explode. I haven't had a moodswing like this since Linds...actually, this is worse than that. I really feel like my heart is about to start pumping so hard it's going to come out of my mouth, but that I'll enjoy it when it happens. I know, all of this sounds weird, none of you will understand what the fuck is going on, but that's alright. I would actually prefer if you didn't say anything about it. I can't explain it right now that you could.

It's just a whole hell of a lot of crazy energy waiting to come out. My heart is a caffeine factory and my brain is an amphetamined, angel dusted foreman. I'm the bipolar I king of the whole fucking universe. Yes, I typed bipolar ONE. Something crazy is happening right now. I keep thinking about Picasso, the way he cut off his ear during mania. I think I could do it, but I wouldn't. Actually, I've learned enough to not be so crazy as to act on any of my shit ideas I get when I'm manic, but I really think some crazy shit sometimes when it's happening. It's all here. Don't expect any of the things I say here to happen, I'm smarter than that (and no smart-ass comments to that, or I'll eat you).

It sucks because I know that very very soon, I'm going to come down and bomb the fuck out, I'm probably going to get so depressed I won't know what to do with myself except sleep and think about nothing. That's what I do these days when I'm depressed: concentrate on abso-fucking-loutely nothing. It helps. It doesn't tangle my depressed stuff with my good stuff, it's not worth it trying to cheer myself up during depression, it's not that simple, and it doesn't work, so fuck it. I plan to keep my good memories in tact for mania and baseline so that there there in whole form and ready to be used as they should be, not as death-traps waiting to bring me down (although sometimes, as in now, they could be useful).

I think I just felt myself beginning to drop. You can't run a car forever without it stalling out and coming to a complete stop. I puff the last of my psychic gasoline and come to a screeching hault wrapped around a telephone poll but quite alive, just bleeding. Every time. What a feeling it is. That's the best description I could give, the best yet. I give on this post. It made me feel better, it filled the last half-hour quite well. If you actually read all this, I'm having your children, come to Unca Josh's right now. Peace out, y'all mega wonderous pals o' mine.