I Really Should Stop

I really should stop obsessing over him. That's what will make me lose him. That's what made me lose T all those years ago. It's part of the bipolar thing...I hate it. People say you can't love at a young age or whatever. It's different when you're bipolar. My heart is so, so full of passion. When I "like" somebody, I REALLY like them, and it's so painful, because they never like me back.

And then...in the rare case that one of them actually does like me back...I fall out of it in a matter of weeks. It's like...I thought that they could be something for me that they couldn't. I thought they could fill the hole in my heart that...he...left behind. God, and I hurt people on the way. I really do. But I'm so pathetically desperate. I'm not desperate in the sense that many girls are towards boys...I just want to have peace. I want to rest. I want to know that whatever happens, I have something in my life to be happy about. Somebody. I want badly to not hurt people, but my mind won't stop, it won't stop! It's like...it's like I've got something in my head, some living thing, eating away at me, writhing inside of me, and it hurts like nothing else, and it NEVER STOPS hurting. It's the kind of pain that will make you do almost ANYTHING to escape it. Even if it's just for one or two weeks.

It may be selfish...it IS selfish...but it pushes me out of control! At least I know the people I've hurt will bounce back. At least I know that most of them will never know this pain. Sure, it would make it easier for them to understand me if they did, but I don't want that for them. I want them to be able to live like I can't, and that's give and take. I may go out with somebody that somebody else likes. They would have done the EXACT same thing to somebody else, and for half the reason. Because they're so young. They really think that it's the end of the world when they don't get what they want. They're fucking babies mostly, in that way. They don't get something they want, some transitory desire, and they through a hissy fit, a tantrum, and upset everything around them.

But maybe that's best.

Maybe that's best for them, because tantrums end. Tantrums end, and they're happy again. That makes it more alright that they don't get what they want. That I have what they want instead. 

I don't have what they want.

They don't want this.

They don't understand that pain is the minority in their lives, and they're elastic. The pain passes for them, and they bounce back to their normal lives, their majority.

Whatever the antithesis of pain is––that's my minority. My happiness, or peace, at least, whatever it is. It passes quickly for me, and then I bounce back to my majority; pain. 

My life is a photo's negative of theirs.

And it's best for them that way.