A bit too personal, perhaps?

As a victim of manic depression, I have but one thing to exclaim....

People. What a fuckin' waste of skin.

Yeah, I said it. That means you. And me.

Let me begin this tirade by simply saying that I'm tired. Not tired from baling hay or shoveling shit or any other worthwhile occupation. I'm tired of living in a world full of stupidity, self-absorbedness and hypocrisy.

That's not to say I've not exhibited any of these traits at one time or another. Sure, Pam and the Loudoun County Sheriff's department can attest to my stupidity. I consider myself a whiz at trivia and I am one of the masters of the 'do as I say, not as I do' philosophy.

But really, I'm tired. Not just, 'gimme a klonopin and let me sleep', kinda tired, It's more of a 'gimme a bottle of klonopin, bottle of vodka and a porn site to drift off to' kinda tired.

How much bullshit can the world dish out before we all ask ourselves the ultimate question? 'How can I go on?'

Thankfully, I have a friend who has endured much, much more than I could even comprehend enduring. No, wait a second.,... that didn't sound just right. Let me rephrase that.... I have a friend that has endured much, much more than I can imagine having to ever endure. Thankfully, she's my friend.

Yet, she persistently survives. And encourages. She knows my struggles and understands my frustrations. How, I have no clue. Ok, yeah I do... she's just like me, except stronger and a bit more voluptuous, but not by much.  To be honest, ..... nevermind..... let me just say that her words just once have kept me from twisting a bottletop from left to right and counting the moments that energy meets eternity.

Thank you, Elisabeth.

However, that was yesterday and today my mind still whirls with activity. I was quite aptly reminded just this evening that I was playing a game on my computer, a game on my iPhone and watching television all at the same time as a dumbass director at my place of employment was circumventing the rules and harassing a wonderful employee. All this while I composed an email to management stating that if said management couldn't follow the rules then I would be quite vocal and be a thorn in the white-collar wing-tips. Oh yeah, I would. Fuck 'em. I gave up being a pawn to white-collar politics quite a while back.

But, that's not really the issue here. The issue is fatigue. Namely, my fatigue. I write to stave off fatigue with life. I write to escape the entrapment of mundane life. I write to hopefully fall asleep before I decide that what I'm writing doesn't matter any more than I matter.

You see.... I'm not nice. I'm not smart. Sure, I have an IQ higher than most, but I'm not smart. I'm not sane and I'm not worthy of the unconditional love that only a few have ever shown. Yet, here I am. Why? Really, why?

Oh sure, I could go into self-pity mode. But I won't. This isn't self-pity, this is realism. This is a place that we have either all reached or all will one day reach. The difference is that not everyone has a bottle of klonopin handy when they reach that point. The test of life is how far are we willing to twist that bottle cap on a day that tests us. Will we say, 'enough'. Or will we say, 'fuck you."

I say, ..................................................................................................................'fuck you'

Maybe tomorrow will be better and my thinking clearer. Maybe I'll be just a tad bit more sane.
Maybe not.

In which case I'll ask myself that question again. And I'll wait for the answer.

Enjoy your sanity as you read the words of one who struggles.

Goodnight.