I Don’t Think Were In Kansas Anymore Toto

Relationships are tricky. Especially for those who suffer from mental illness and I will add especially for Bipolar’s. I have watched two people with problems get together time after time. 1 problem + `1 problem =’s 2 problems. Na, not a good idea, and it always ends in a mess- well- 9 times out of ten and I am not about to do something that stupid. If I felt like doing something idiotic, I would go to the casino where my odds are better and the alcohol is continually flowing. I maybe a lot of things but I refute anybody who makes the claim that I like sobriety. No. Not a typo.

My friend told me that her doctor said she should be in recovery from bipolar II for a year before getting in a relationship. Or was it 2 years? I do not remember but she lost me at that point. She has to be the one and only person who remains single for a year after having a breakdown. Then again theres well… me… but no year… I do not think… well… when somebody comes along that is right- then that is for me. As long as I am grounded.

Is there a magic number- no. If there were- shit- well I’d open a booth and charge people for my God given wisdom. In other words- ya, go ahead, get in relationships that won’t work and wind up right back at the start.  Or be wise. Wise- funny word. It carries so much weight and importance but so easily forgotten.

I deleted my Facebook account, or rather the people from them. Why? My drama is enough for me, and quite frankly, I do not understand how people can post their lives online for the world to see. Is there privacy? I live in a neighborhood where fences block houses- all so- so very ironic. People want privacy and at the same time they want the world to know they are at some party doing something that nobody really gives a damn about. (Except for one geek who spends his life glued to the screen)

Where am I going with this? Absolutely nowhere! Which is my exactly my point! It seems we attach our identities to what others want or what we feel would be socially acceptable. I wrote the below poem about ten years ago but it struck me as….. well…. give it a read and remember- Live life wisely – but also Live Life to the Fullest

Max Baumeister

Lexus-.
The car I drive.
Bright Eyes-.
My favorite band.
One hundred and forty-.
My weight.
Irrelevant and empty.
My identity.

Who am I, really?
Does it even matter?
From dirt to flesh.
From flesh to dirt.
Irony…
I suppose.
Suppose.
That is all any human can do.
Fact-
Tell me when you find one.

Life-
Can I laugh?
I really should cry.
Crying-
Never got me anywhere.
Anywhere?
Where is that?
I would like directions.
Yes, I admit- I am lost.
Always have been.

Another lost day.
Another lost moment.
Is this pain?
Depends on how you look at it?
I guess…
Which is about all I can do.
Guess.

If we measured joy against sadness,
Which one would exceed?
I guess we each have a different pair of eyes.
Or do we?
Where am I going?
Nowhere-…
in every sense of the word.
My Identity.

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