Bipolar

I don’t know who the hell I was…talking about love like that in the previous one. I think I was delirious in some way. Now it’s time for the realistic songs…talking about mistakes and realisations. That’s more me at the moment. I was very good at driving today. Even my driving instructor had his eyes wide open due to astonishment. I think my entire head is with me now. It’s not empty, it’s motivated, nevertheless, it’s filled with doubt and has perceived certain mistakes that I have done; mistakes that are inevitable when you listen to the voice in your stomach.

I have started to read “As I lay dying” and I’m finding it tough, as it is written in such a lyrical way that I can’t be bothered with at the moment. But I should always finish what I’ve started. No matter how difficult it is. I got myself through bloody Salman Rushdie, so I really shouldn’t complain. However, I can do with something that’s straightforward.

There are so many things that I want to forget, all the wrongs that I have done. I am so sick of enduring; enduring things that I can’t be fucked with. I keep thinking it is so easy to let go, but at the end of the day I’m still holding on tightly even though I don’t want to carry on like this. Then I begin to ask myself why do you still do this? And then I answer to myself: Because you are not over it yet. You still haven’t learnt what you should have learnt. And you know you will still do the same old mistake again and again.

And it is true. It’s like going backwards in time. I still haven’t learnt how to move forward. I have no idea what to focus on sometimes and I begin to take steps backwards.

I don’t see a point anymore in going to see my doctor, because I just sit there and keep quiet…listen to him preaching about culture and politics. I have given up in trying to express myself to him. I don’t need a doctor, but a philosopher. A french one, please. I think they would know how to deal with me. I think they would just tell me to roll a rock up a hill…until I feel tired. Well, that’s at least something, isn’t it. Whatever, I think I’m just going to dance until I feel exhausted and dazed from the Desperados.

Why did I stop taking the tablets again?

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