you won't ever get too far from me:

My mind is a rush of every bad thing I've ever said to you. Every time I haven't answered your phone calls or when I've let a text go unanswered because I just didn't know what to say. I'm also replaying every bad thing you've ever said to me, or every time you've wrote about me in your blog that hasn't been exactly positive. For example..

"you are the most unoriginal person I have ever met, full of lies and pleas and you are so ungrateful, every pretend 'I'm sorry,' that you mumble is worthless. you have no idea what creativity is, and if i thought I was bad..."

I don't know exactly where everything went wrong. In May, we were laughing and carrying on like you were the only thing that mattered. By July, you didn't know that my life was falling apart. In October, you didn't know that I wanted little more than to take my own life.

I haven't exactly told you everything that's been going on in my life, and I can't expect you to know, either. But at the same time, you've yet to reach out and ask about me. You've yet to take the time. Sure, you were there for me last week when I considered going in the hospital, but you weren't here for the whole decay of my mental functioning. You didn't know I was in therapy or that my medicine wasn't working until it was almost too late.

"We didn't drift apart. YOU pushed us apart. I'm not planning on having any future contact with you, because you're going to be this way for the rest of your life. And I'm not going to wait for the day that you decide your friends are worth caring about."

You're not the best friend you used to be, and I'm not saying I'm any better. I think I gave up on wanting you to be my best friend a long time ago. I'm done trying. But the truth is, you pushed me away for years before I pushed back. So don't blame me for all of this, it's your fault as much as it is mine.

I'll grieve over this. Because as much as our friendship has decayed over the last couple of months, you've been my best friend since I was six years old, and that kind of love doesn't just go away. I miss you like hell, already. But I don't miss who you are today, I miss the friend you used to be. I won't ever get that back, but the memories are not something I'm giving up.

Part Three:

I would like to take a moment to thank every single soul who has been there - whether physically or emotionally - for me over the last few days. You all are my champions, my heroes, my driving force in this emotional battle to stay alive. To fight this awful depression that's gone on inside me for long enough. I've been alone and falling for far too long, and I want to feel okay again. I want to just feel as though there is some hope in this world.

I guess there's a part of me that has hope. I feel as though things might be okay again soon, or at least, I'm on the path to get there. I talked to a doctor today. Unfortunately, not a psychiatrist, but my family doctor. For now, he put me on a prescription for Lexapro, in the hope that that'll make me feel better over the weekend, but I see an official psychiatrist on Monday at the University. Hopefully, that psychiatrist will get me on a prescription that will work.

(Disclaimer: I in no way intend to make it sound as though anti-depressants and pills are the answer to my problems. I have never intended to pop a pill and make my life perfect. I know that the chemical side of things are only a part of the problem - a large part, but a part none the less. I know that I am on a long path to recovery, and that nothing is going to change overnight.)

But the thing is, I have hope. I am in no way stable, nor should I be left alone for any extended period of time. But I'm on the road to getting there.

10/21/10 Part: 2

There is nothing more terrifying or more painful than the idea of telling someone that you want to kill yourself. It's something different when I tell it to a blog, or to myself. It's less personal (although it's exactly the opposite) and it's easy to say that to the Internet, when nothing seems real at all. But it's a completely different thing to sit in an office of someone who is very indirectly your boss (as in, he is, but I don't' get paid for what I do in the slightest) and tell him that I very much want to die, and I'm scared that I'll actually slip and go through with it.

At first, my intention with all of this to self-admit myself to the hospital. I was going to call my mom, tell her my intentions, and then go through with it later this evening. Scott would help me get everything in order as far as work and school. However, when I called my mom to tell her, she asked me the question of "do you want to withdraw from school?". I replied no, and her next question was "Do you want me to come down there?" and I couldn't even answer before I was in a bawl of tears on my bed.

So my mom came down here, and again I found myself in Scott's office, trying to formulate a plan for what I wanted to do, and how I wanted to do it. He suggested (and my mom and I agreed) that the best plan would be for me to go through the Counseling Center and their crisis center, especially since I already have a relationship with the counselors there. So I found myself sitting in there and taking the blog post I wrote late last night and I let them read it. I figured that them reading my thoughts at my worst would be the best plan of action.

Together, Amber and I came up with a list of things that make me want to be alive. Some of those things were:

• My family
• My friends
• My art
• My cat
• If I died, I wouldn't know how Project Runway ended or how good the Harry Potter movie is going to be

And together we decided that I should take this weekend off work and go home with my mom. I'm going to take a weekend that's severely for me. I'm going to work on art and play the sims and be with my family and just take care of my wants and my needs. Because I need to get my life back in check, and it's not going to get any better if I don't.

I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has been there for me through this. Beckie and Jessica have been a wonderful physical support system, and there are tons of people online that have been a great support system for me emotionally. I'll take the time to write more once things calm down a bit.

10/21/10

I don't know if anyone reads my posts, or if anyone really cares, but I know that I care, and that I read them. And that the people who matter will find them, or I will show these posts to them.

To start off, I am not okay. I am suicidal. I am a danger to myself. 90% of my thoughts are about harming myself (through cutting, mostly, but I also have a tendency to pick at my skin until it bleeds, or tug on hairs), or worse, taking my own life. I can't honestly tell you why I feel this way, or why I can't fix it for myself. All I know is that I want to die every day, and I can't make it stop.

I think it's also important to note that I haven't been going to class. Well, I go to some classes, but even then I have a low level of interest and a tiny attention span, and I spend every moment that I'm not in my room wishing that I was in my room. I consistently wish to be asleep, or to be deep in my head where it's all about the creative aspect, and not that pain in my chest that I feel every day.

I also am slacking on every aspect of my duties. I'm not a good community leader because I don't want to be with people. I'm not a good co-president of Arts Advocates because I don't want to be in control of my own life, let alone an organization that is almost 20 years strong. I don't do well managing my time, so how can you expect me to have any role in anything else?

I'm sleeping more than I have in my life. I can't bring myself to wake up unless someone physically makes me get up (either by calling me or coming to get me). Or more often than not, I wake up, but I can't seem to find the ability - or desire - to make my muscles move. All I want to do is lay still and be alone, but what's terrifying is that the more I'm alone, the worse off I feel.

Tonight, I confessed to Becky exactly how bad off I am. In the morning, I'm going to talk to Scott, my hall coordinator about all of this. I'm going to tell him everything. I think I already know what I want to do, but I don't know if I can have the strength to do that to myself again.

But I think I might need to.

Renewal:

There is something completely revitalizing about coming off a depressive state. Now, I completely accept that I'm bipolar, and there will always be parts of my life in which I am extremely low, and parts that I am extremely high.

In the last few days, I've come out of that depressive state and I've began to see the world as beautiful and revitalizing once more. Honestly, I am absolutely manic. I am hyper and full of energy and running on not enough sleep and too much caffeine. And this would be a problem except...

I don't want to die anymore. And that is a gift all in itself.