As I lay here

I realize nothing changes ,

When left alone.

We have to do something .

So many empty words get thrown around, so many empty promises.

“It is how it is.”

What will happen if we all decide that there is nothing we can do?

That “I can’t change anything” mentality will kill us all.

Sitting ducks.

Just waiting around for someone to step up.

What would one even do to fix the wrongs that plague the world?


I cannot relax.

I won’t.


I woke up early. Man Ihopethisisntastartyomybipolar mania.. it comes in waves, I start waking up earlier, then I start not sleeping, then bam! I’m talking fast and interrupting ppl around me and walking naked in the streets of Hudson.

I need to do something that is outside of my comfort zone.


My therapist asked me recently what is important to me.

I suck when asked questions out of the blue like that!

I thought about it… is there nothing important to me? I’m sure there is, but I couldn’t think about it at the time.

I think being able to be spiritually, emotionally and completely connect with someone else is important to me.

Maybe having a baby isn’t so important to me, maybe. I want to see what I can create. Maybe I will create a baby that will save the lives of millions! Maybe.

Medically Managed

I feel exhausted. Drained, like I’ve started something significant. I am trying to figure out volunteering at a rehab, but that isn’t what I believe to be significant. I mean maybe it will turn out to be life changing, but I have decided to per sue oil paint. If I put my whole heart in it maybe I can be great.

Oil painting is what I think will be significant.

I’m reading “Setting the River on Fire” by Kay Redifield, also I have watched most of this show called “Spinning Out”.

I’m sad bc I see how much similarities I have. How I have an injury that so many people just read about and thank god it’s not themselves.

I’ve barely even got past the introduction of Setting the River on Fire and I can tell it’s going to pull a lot out of me. I have lived through manic episodes, and manic depression. I used to call my manic depression episodes my ‘depression bouts‘.

I have done an awfully good job, I think. I mean I haven’t died yet or gotten injured too badly. I can honestly say I think my bipolar is managed.



I won’t let my medically managed self become nothing more than a person who tried and failed.

The Human Condition

I wish to be somebody,

Someone important to someone else.

I have recently decided to perfect my oil painting skills, but I do not want to make a piece of art that looks too much like anything that’s been done.

How do I avoid that?

Does perfection exist?

Should I even strive for perfection when I know I might never get it?

Striving for perfection might make me miss something.

Striving for perfection might make make me a little less aware of what I thought my version of beauty is.



All that I can do is think about is how I’m barely able to get my family Christmas gifts.

This holiday is like, really dumb.

With all the shit going on. Do any of us deserve a Christmas? I mean, we are not even able to stop killing each other.

I’m kind of sad that I, for some reason, did not do ancestry dna or whatever it’s called… I guess somewhere in my mind did not think it worked.