On the verge of tears 80% of the time. (Again.)

Before anything, I apologize for the way this post was written. My head is a mess and even I can’t make much sense of everything. With that, here we go:

I truly wish I had written an entry in the 9 days I felt on top of the world.

The upswing in mood and energy I was anticipating for months had finally come last Tuesday. This threw me off a bit at first but after a day, I started to revel in it. It was messy, but it was the most energy I’d had in months, probably since March. I couldn’t stop talking for the life of me. I had no filter, I was obnoxious and had quite an inflated ego. It was drastically different to how I’ve been and maybe the closest I’ve gotten to pre-medication/pre-psychiatrist me and without the recreational drug use. I felt very young, in all possible interpretations of that word. (I feel that I must say the recreational drug user version of me was at least 2 years ago, I have completely changed. I choose to not deny the past and I will always own up to the things I’ve done. I don’t think it’s worth it to continually monitor the way I act and what I say just because of what others might think. I’m impulsive, I’m emotional, I’m ridiculous. Take it or leave it.)

The change in mood sent me to a frenzy of sorts and I felt like I had to do so much. (Granted, my attention span was, and still is, awful. I couldn’t really write but the people around me, I’m sure, could attest to the changes in my mood and demeanor.) I felt so excited, full of ideas, undeterred by reality and limitations. I wanted to devour everything I came across with, meaning to say I felt so excited to just be there, to exist, to participate. It was like I was fucking Superman. Or perhaps just really cracked out without the crack. However, dare I say, I enjoyed almost every minute.

A week before this hypomanic vacation my mind and body forcibly took me to, I was steady and calm, sort-of-happy but missing something. I reread my last post and it seemed that, despite my life going more or less well at the time, I still wasn’t genuinely happy. (I use the word ‘happy’ loosely, I don’t know if I even know what ‘happy’ means.) I was in an arguably much better place mentally though. I had reactivated my Facebook, started being more social, do new things and try become part of the world again. I even sort of tore down the fortified walls I had put up in the past year – which was very necessary, if you only knew what I had gone through especially earlier this year – and be vulnerable because really, what is life without the vulnerability?

And here we are.

I feel a crippling, accumulated sort of sadness but I’m not too sure. All I am certain of is that I’m not very good right now. I’ve been crying a lot in the past 2 days but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m exhausted or I have genuine reason to be sad. (I’m hoping its exhaustion. I haven’t been able to get proper sleep for over a week.) It’s not depression because I still have a sense of motivation and a want to make things better. I don’t feel limited; I just feel sort of tiny in contrast to everything around me. (Stark difference from how big and amazing I had been feeling the past week — so you can easily see why I’d be upset about starting to feel like this.)

No, it’s not because of my stupid decision to reactivate Facebook and seeing my ex happy with someone else. No, it’s not the wasting of time I’ve been doing the past two months. No, it’s not because I’m not busy enough or that I have too much time on my hands. No, it’s not a nagging heartache over some things (read: some people) not working out. No, it’s not too much noise and people around me. No, it’s not my parents; though, I guess it could be them just a little bit.

It’s: everything, everyone, life. I wish I could say I just want to get away from the city, someplace far, and do something and I’d feel better almost instantly. It’s not the city or the people that exhaust me. It’s not the disappointment or the expectations of how things should be that exhaust me. None of that. Basically, I just want to kind of stop breathing for a little while. It’s all so tiring: everything, everyone, life.

Maybe I put myself here. Maybe I’ve worn myself out. I wouldn’t be surprised. I feel too much when I really should get with the program and feel much less because really, how would I get anywhere? I don’t mind. I’ll just ride it out. I’ll have to suck it up and try my best to ignore daydreams of death on impact and falling into a coma in my sleep. The tears will eventually come to a halt and I’ll get over this, just like I always do.