BP 105/70

They tell me to drink more water, all I hear is:

“Drink more coffee.”

We were talking last night about the good old days, when people with “mental illness” were just crazy and they were locked up in wards with other crazy people, or just in rooms with padded cells, and maybe just strapped to a bed. Before all this CBT and having to work on yourself bullshit came along.

It seems that, despite the civil right abuses and all that, mental illness was just so much easier back then.

The girls and Jeff came to visit me today. Wanna see?

It was everything I needed. The day started out great. I was on such a high and I knew it would end so I decided to ride the beautiful cloud for as long as it lasted. I was so surprised when it dissipated so quickly though. So I asked my unicorn to bring the girls, and my unicorn brought the girls, and they jumped all over me and changed my world for a while.

Still I wonder about real change. Lasting change. I am an angry aggressive person. You know those manic people who run or spend? Well I think my mania is my anger, the way I express myself towards others, the pride I feel in my ability to out-bully.

I find any other way of being quite boring, you see.

I don’t know how else to be.

I don’t know if I want to be any other way.

Others don’t like the way I am, though.

Not even in here.

Already, I’ve made enemies.

Someone tonight said to me:

Well you’re a nasty piece of work, aren’t you?

Well, maybe I am.