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Me thinks the hypomania is here.  FUCK.

I want to talk, talk, talk – but there’s no one around to talk to.  I want to have a deep and meaningful conversation about ANYTHING with ANYONE.  I’m a little afraid that if I do start talking i won’t stop.

I want a hug.  Fuck that, I NEED a hug.  Again, afraid.  Maybe if someone hugs me I’ll shatter into a thousand pieces.  Who would pick them up?

I want to do stuff, but not work stuff.  I want to knit, crochet, make some jewelry…  Anything with my hands and something pretty.

I want to go home NOW and start tearing the house apart.  I want to reorganize EVERYTHING and I want to do it NOW.

I want to make some kind of huge life change, something positive, something uplifting, something AWESOME.  I have no fucking clue as to what that would be though.

I want to laugh, laugh so loud the whole building can hear me.  I want to be witty and funny and brilliant, and I’m NONE of those things.

I want to tear my hair out in hunks.  It’s hot, it’s making my neck hot, it looks awful today, I hate it.  I want to grow it all the way down my back and wear it in elaborate styles with braids and things.

I want to be beautiful and yet right now I feel hideous.  I’m a troll, a fucking troll.  I hate my face.  Why do my eyes have to be brown???

I’m so fucking TENSE right now that I’m getting cramps in my muscles from being clenched all the time.  I don’t think my skin would even cut right now it’s so fucking tight.  My hands are so thin compared to the rest of me.  My rings are spinning on my fingers.  My body doesn’t even feel like it’s my own.  Can’t fucking hardly type, my fingers keep getting confused.

Is it the sun?  Is it a chemical imbalance?  Too much nicotine?  Not enough food?  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?????

I feel like I’m fucking vibrating.  My brain feels too big for my skull.  My jaw keeps clenching.  I don’t know what to do with my teeth again.  Everything kind of itches.

I’m fine, really.  I’m FUCKING AWESOME.  Just please, someone, anyone, tell me I’m not going to go so high that when I crash I leave a crater in my soul.  Just please, someone tell me I’m going to be ok.  Even if you don’t mean it, I’ll believe you.  I swear.

Here it comes kids…  here it fucking comes…