I'm about to get really emo. Which is sad because let's be honest, I'm generally fucking hilarious. No, really, if whining, whingey girly crap turns you off, don't read this. I wouldn't. I'm going to be ridiculous. Hopefully, in a few hours, I'll see sense and delete it. So you know, take your time checking your blogs.
Those of you who read this blog even semi-regularly know that I don't edit. I'm not good at it. And this is the only place I'm ever completely honest. So here goes it.
I'm writing this post because my life feels messed up beyond repair, and I can't think of a single friend I want to talk to about it. That's a lie. I can't think of any friend who'd want to hear it. My oldest friend, is so entirely horribly busy with his new job that I wouldn't even consider laying this on him. The other person I'd consider talking to about this is...out of bounds right now, and I feel like I may have fucked that friendship up. That's a problem. If I'm only ever honest with one person in my life and I can't even talk to them? What have I been doing with my life? I have people to go out with, people to drink with, people to date if I so wish but no-one to talk to? What kind of a dick does that make me? I'm like, the go-to friend if anyone has a problem but...where do I go? Do doctors have doctors?
Speaking of doctors. It's been brought to my attention, repeatedly over the past year, I guess, that I should consider talking to someone about my mental health. A surprising number of the people who meet and spend any time with me mention the 'bipolar' thing. And like, they're British, they're not supposed to admit that people have mental problems. When I brought this up on Twitter (as you do) someone who's already made a great impact on my life got into great detail with me about it, and recognised a whole bunch of themselves in me. In fact, wait, let me tell you a couple of stories.
One happened just before the weekend. We've had people in the house, building things, painting things, generally making it difficult for me to pee or sleep. Friday morning, we realised that due to some random thing that one of said painters did, our living room door had wedged itself shut. There was nothing particularly important in the room, other than my laptop and the TV. If you can't live without those things for a couple of days, you've got to start worrying a little bit about your life. Anyway, I was fine with it. It was Friday. End of the week! I got PAID on Thursday, first proper payslip ever. I was properly happy, almost giddy and excited. I was seeing friends at the weekend, there wasn't very much bad at all.
Anyway, (bloody hell, are you even still there?), I got home. Still mental, completely giddy, running up and down the stairs, peeing, doing all my 'It's the fucking weekend' type things and then I see the door. Now, I've seen already, it's unavoidable walking into the house. But it suddenly occurs to me, 'wait, there's a door. In MY house. And I can't open it. What. The. Fuck?' It also occurs to me that it's my fault that this door is locked. I went to bed early the night before so my mum pulled it shut, I'm not sure why. Anyway, had I been in the living room she wouldn't have done it. Right, so I start kicking this door. It's solid wood, the 6 and a half foot guy, maybe 20 stone guy who lives in our house couldn't even make it wobble and I, 5 foot, 8 stone of uncoordinated nothing am beating up on this door with everything, literally all the strength I have, completely convinced that I can open it. Anyway, terrified for my health, my mum eventually said 'You
can't open it.' I completely broke down, ran up to bed and sobbed into my pillow till it was more snot than...whatever the fuck pillows are made of nowadays, and my throat had closed up. Eventually I went back to try and kick the fucking door down again. This time I was throwing myself bodily at the door, bashing it with my shoulder, three days later I was still bruised, it still hurt like hell. And I couldn't care less, I just NEEDED to open the door. Not to get in, just to open the door. I knew how ridiculous it was, I just couldn't care less.
I went to sleep at about 7.30pm that day and woke up at 9 the next day. I didn't even know humans could sleep that long.
Second incident, literally just ended. My mum picks me up from the train station when I get back from work and it's been pouring with rain all day. Long story short (I know, I know, why didn't I fucking think of
that before?)a bunch of leaves got under the bonnet of the car and somehow that made the entire passenger side flood. How? Who knows? Anyway, she got stuck on a side street with a completely misted up car and couldn't see for shit. Again, my fault. What I'd not realised till today is that there's a bus that'd get me almost all the way home in about 15 minutes if I'd just bother to walk a hundred metres. So my poor mum, gets stuck in a wet car for like, an hour and a half in the rain while I'm home talking to the fucking AA (roadside assistance, not the alcoholics). When she got home she got me to sit in the car with the heater on full blast while she got ready for work, and I'll be honest, engine running, seeing the house I'm starting to properly hate right in front of me, more than one time I seriously considered backing up and ramming the car really hard into the house's stupid bastard face.
I'm not going to go any further but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about myself.
How...to end this on a positive note...I don't know how many people who are on Twitter read this blog, I know Chris and now Aaron do, but I hope that at least a couple of others see this bit of the post, having skipped the early bit, obviously. I've gotten through some of the most depressing days with the help of random people on Twitter. And on rough days in the past the people (Bud, Mark) who read this blog have really helped me out. Just acknowledging that I exist would be enough and then you're all really nice to me, comforting and complimentary and generally just, sweet. There's no way of telling you how much I appreciate it, but please know that I do.
This post will self-destruct in 3...2...*boom*.