I have anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.
I am medicated and I have good doctors taking care of me.
There is No Cure, Just Mindset.
I used to be consumed by anxious and depressive thoughts to the point I was hurting myself with my own expectations of people.
People looked at how weird I was and abandoned me after a brief season of friendship.
They turned out to be popular, normal people who forgot about our brief season of friendship. Because people like that will never understand people like me.
My mindset is too set in psychology, sociology and philosophy for normal people to understand a word I say.
Sometimes it is nonsense to them and wisdom to me.
I grew to know many things either from experience or books.
I am not normal and I never will be normal.
Normal is an overrated expectation that society puts on children of the past, the present and the future.

Everyone have their own perspective and everyone exists on some level of consciousness.
People trust some certain group in a way that is part of human nature.
Existing is simple but Trust is difficult.
Trust is something that needs to be earned and nurtured within a friendship or relationship. Trust is peeling away the act and the mask to reveal who you really are which is the most intimate thing anyone can do.
Existing is living in a world that is afraid of realness. Existing is going through life as though each day is a stepping stone.
Which one is harder to do Existing or Trust?

The Gregarious Guy has dark brown hair, scarlet lips and pale skin.
He is strong, sweet and talkative.
He wears black frame glasses that brings out the dark blueness of his eyes.
His voice is rough and husky.
I work with him.

The awakening deliciousness. The caffeine rolling down my throat.
Milky galaxies swirling, cooling down the steaming brown liquid.
Oh how the brown hues call forth my mind to awake.
The brown liquid I take every morning to handle my mother, in the afternoon to handle work and at night to handle my mental triggers.
In a way it's my drug that manages to bring me back to happiness.
To understand humans so well I need the dark brown liquid.
Coffee isn't alcohol. I know that much. I prefer the bittersweet twang of the Coffee or the buzz of the alcohol. For most humans it's the other way around. I don't understand most humans. Hence being a nerdy rebel. I don't need alcohol to survive my mother, work nor my mental triggers. I just need the Coffee to handle all that. Scientifically, Coffee is a mood stabilizer with mood swings it's the perfect drug and it doesn't need an ID to get nor a doctor's approval.

"There is an infinity between 0 and 1" - The Fault in Our Stars
To say that people are complex and weird but to say that fate is what draws us together is another. To be weird and complex is to have simple standards of good and boundaries set. To have fate known is to believe that Universe actually cares.
"Pain it demands to be felt" - The Fault in Our Stars
I love realistic romances because love at first sight is crap and anyone who says otherwise is kicking themselves into submission.
Perfection is unrealistic. The white picket fence is unrealistic.
Finding true love is about trial and error. It's trust, compassion, unrelenting forgiveness, grace, mercy and kindness placed into a forever friendship. Sure I am melancholy about love because I know what kind of person I am looking for but haven't found my true love yet.

It's more Spring than Fall because it's in the 50's and 60's outside.
It's more Spring than Fall because it's so warm and toasty.
It's more Spring than Fall because people are walking around in short sleeves rather than long sleeves.
It's more Spring than Fall because no one is wearing jackets even if you are wearing a jacket you are overheating in them.
It's more Spring than Fall the only indicators of it being Fall is the fallen leaves of oranges and browns as well as the Thanksgiving decorations in every store.

Light blue sky and icy wind blowing on the library.
People passing through and checking out books.

Drinking to drink is fun because you are in a happy mood.
Drinking while depressed is just asking for the drunkenness to drown you in your sorrow.
Drinking to drink is easy because you don't have to worry about what anyone else thinks.
Drinking while depressed is basically strapping yourself to a rocket and hoping not to die.
Drinking to drink everything is light and bubbly.
Drinking while depressed is diving into the drunkenness and hoping it does **** you.
Drinking to drink is joyful and lighthearted.
Drinking while depressed is hoping the reality fades as you drink yourself into insanity.

I am saying goodbye to you in a gift. I will set you free. I am cutting the cord of this toxic connection. Your darkness and bitterness don't belong in my sweetness and light. Where I grow, you wither.
Where you see a forever, I see how doomed this friendship was from the beginning. Your emotional abuse, your mentally draining soul don't belong next to my kind, brave soul. I don't need you because I never did in the first place. You just convinced me that I did. I have a loving, dysfunctional family and amazing friends.
I don't need you degrading my little sister. I don't need you sexually harassing me. I don't need you begging for us to be more than friends. I don't need you depressing me with your trauma. I can't heal you and I can't help so you are hopeless.
So I am going to start the New Year off right by having my hope back.

Day one, surrounded by family members who tested positive for COVID.
Day two, read an article the mentally ill being at high risk and freaking out then read an article about vitamin D deficiency which freaked me out even more. Went to the grocery store and bought vitamin D3. Calmed down a little.
Day three, fatigued and had an headache. Took a nap then started sneezing a lot. My mom got worried about me because she tested positive for COVID.
Day four, I developed a sore throat and everything seemed louder than normal. I tested positive for COVID. I called my boss and told her I couldn't work tomorrow.
Day five, I started coughing and my lungs felt like someone scooped my insides with a spoon vigorously.
Day six, all of my muscles were aching and my nose was running.
Day seven, I never got a temperature just my body tempt going up and down basically shivering to overheating.
Day eight, headache gone and muscle aches gone. Started breathing better.
Day nine, took a nap and felt a little better.
I feel better my nose is running less each day and coughing hurts less. I am not contagious anymore.

The church or my sanity.
I would prefer to keep my sanity.
The people I work with are like my family.
I am already distant from my church friends anyways.
I believe in Jesus, The Holy Spirit and God.
It's just if they can't accept that I am bisexual then they don't accept me. My work family accepts me and that's enough.

I own My Madness not the other way around. It doesn't control me anymore. I am medicated with prescribed by psychiatrist, drugs. I am still trying to find the right therapist.
My Madness is why I write. There is no other way to explain it. I remember when I was in my psychosis I called myself, Eurosia.
Bouncing between that personality and my usual personality was rough on me. I didn't want my name when I was in my psychosis.
I thought it told myself my name is Eurosia it would erase my dramatic, emotionally charged messy past but I was still me, Brandi the Brave. The girl who became a perfectionist at eleven.
My Madness drove me to do crazy things for love and validation. I never scared anyone more than the people I fell for. Slowly over time my love for people became platonic, romantic, and familial. I trained myself to bring myself back to reality by listening to music and counting past ten when it got too wild even for me.
My Madness made me the talk of the town ever since I was 7 years old. Being labeled mentally disabled used to make me feel worthless then I realized it meant I had to learn at my own rate however fast or slow.
My Madness, my cross to bear.

When she loved me I knew I would always love her back.
When she loved me, passionate kisses and her dark blue eyes gazing into my dark brown eyes.
When she loved me, I remember how soft her skin felt.
When she loved me, us exchanging smiles.
When she loved me, I remember us taking turns smiling into each passionate kiss.

Very few people have seen it.
Very few people have experienced it.
It's my wild side or should I say the darker version of it. I am not all rainbows and sunshine. Sometimes I am holy fire and everlasting instincts. Scorching and fierce. Harmful by actions and ruthless by words. Something primal. Something relentless and is a raging beast inside of me. Sometimes as cold as ice and as calculated as a mongoose. It's like losing all control in your body and something else takes over. Rather someone else who has no rage in any other way I have experienced. Imagine you living your life and a rage, full of fire and ice was yanking at your chest but when it's free you are left with the damage that is caused. Everything bottled up is spilled out and there is the canvas created by someone else who happened to be you. It's beautiful, honest, terrifying, unnerving, messy and bizarrely all you. That's the best way I can describe it.

My life is bittersweet like coffee.
I have a lot of good memories and a lot of bad memories.
I loss my most of my grandparents when I was younger.
I loss my best friend when I was 15 years old.
I got into an emotionally abusive friendship at 18 years old.
It took 4 years for me to build the courage to get out of that emotionally abusive friendship.
When I loss my best friend I was afraid to love again because the grief swallowed me whole. I didn't think I could bounce back from that but I did because I expressed and spoke about my emotions openly.
When I got into that emotionally abusive friendship I felt trapped as though no one could understand. That traumatic bond I had with my ex boyfriend wasn't worth how awful he treated me. That traumatic bond wasn't worth how unhappy I was with him.
I didn't think I could recover from that but I did.
When I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia at 20 years old because of my psychosis I didn't think I could get back to myself but I did.
Life Considered it is pretty good. I experienced a lot through out the years and I am still me.

The conversations. The casual exchange of numbers.
The smiles and laughter. The shared glances.
Swapping stories and fun reactions.

It was 3 years ago. It was a night of passion.
My lips collided with hers and the world slipped away.
Ripping off each other's clothes.
Loving gazes and joyous smiles. Skin again skin. Soul against soul.
Every kiss in effortless abandonment of what is and what was.
That Night with Her was the best night of my life.

Ten years ago. I went trick or treating with my first boyfriend.
We held hands and got lots of candy.
The funny thing is he turned out gay and I turned out bisexual.
I broke up with him on Christmas break.
He told me that I was the only girl he ever loved.
I loved him too. I felt safe and comfortable around him.
But I knew he wasn't the one for me.

To hear the phrase, "They can smell fear" repeatedly which implies human can smell fear is a myth.
Wolves, dogs, lions and cats can smell fear which is true.
Humans can see fear in body language, tone of voice, the way a person breathes and in the way eyes move.
Humans can sense fear with the gazing of the eyes because the eyes reveal everything.
Humans acting confident and actually being confident are two totally different things.
Humans are inclined to benefit of the doubt, nervousness, socially awkwardness, believing in humanity too much and believing in humanity too little.
The Scent of Desperation is the trembling of the hands, the waver in the voice, the heavy breathing and the wobbly walk.

The Taste of ***** burns the throat.
The Taste of ***** mixed with soda is a luxury.
Sure it's strong but so am I. I can't get drunk off of it because my metabolism is too fast.
The Taste of ***** it's gives a buzz.
The Taste of ***** it's not liquid courage just another high compared to my mood swings.
Sure it's one of the things normal people get drunk off of, good for them. Try having natural happy high then crashing into sadness lake. It *****. It feels like being Icarus.

Love is gentle like a cool breeze on a summer day.
Love is strong like arms wrapped around you like a hug.
Love isn't always forever but it is worth it.
Love is sweet like a deepened kiss
Love is passionate like a love confession years later.
Love is affectionate like being told I love you years later.
Love is indescribable.

I didn't ask for people to love me without conditions or to be obsessed over.
I didn't ask for people to write my name on their hearts.
I didn't ask for people to sing my praises and worship the ground I walked on.
I didn't ask for people to care about me or think about me, they just did.
I didn't ask for my wars to be fought for me. I am a warrior for my own cause.
I didn't ask for my mother or sister to steal my voice away because I had my own thoughts for my future.
I didn't ask for anything that happened in my past.
I didn't ask for conflicts that had nothing to do with me.

The Mystery Girl really likes me and I really like her.
Those dark blue eyes and how the fire inside of me seems to burn brighter when I am around her.
I forget how speak when I am around her. It's like this warm spreads across my body then my mind goes blank. My heart beats faster when I am around her and my pulse rushes a mile a minute.
I tend to lose myself in her eyes then it feels like it's just her and I. Now I just need the courage to ask for her number or give her mine.

I fell in love with her in college, he wanted to control me with every ounce of his monster-like charm.
She gave me a wild love to fight for, he destroyed my confidence and mocked me for it.
I wanted to escape his hopeless grasp, she gave me a new beginning.
I felt stuck between two worlds. One giving something to live for and the other drowning me in my own depression.
I was leading people with my light and couldn't pull myself out of his perverted sense of reality. The more I faded from him the more he held on tight to what was left. I knew there was nothing left and I stayed out of obligation.

I dreamt about you last night.
And when I woke up to see you weren't here cuddling with me.
I felt alone. But I am okay.

I keep seeing shadows. One moment they are there the next moment they are gone.
Some days I feel like I am losing my mind. Other days I feel like the loneliness is eating me alive. My life is healthy. I hangout with my friends at the Coffee Shop, once a week. I hangout with my family, all the time. I have friends at work who I hangout with twice a week.

One roof, lots of rules. Several rooms so many mental triggers.
Outside the house is freedom and laws. No one to watch every move.
It's Your Life Now Live, Our siblings are living lives separate from mom's grasp on our futures. We can escape every now and then.
It's Your Life Now Live, I know her rules are strict but someday will get out of this town. Whoever you become just let me support whatever you do. I am your big sister so I don't care what mom says you are amazing to me. As long as you are reasonable with you become I will do everything in my power to protect you.
It's Your Life Now Live, We are both creative so let's make the most of it. Don't get high too often. I will notice. Mom won't.
My little sister, I love you. There I said it. I don't say it often enough. I looked after you all of these years. Sure no one understands in our family why we chose our passions except our older brother. Being weird have perks.

As Macbeth once said, "Hell is empty and all the devils are here."
We are all fighting our own demons trying our best to get through day by day, night by night.
At wits end to infuriating madness trying to be better than what we once were.
I was once a grief stricken poet turning pain into poetry.
Now I am a beloved poet making sense of my past loves through poetry. So I can be a better lover for whoever comes next in the future.

As you can see he affects me every now and then.
It's my story not his.
He is the abuser and I am the victim.
He knows he is a monster and I want him to live in his guilt.
I shouldn't write about him so much but those things had to be said.
I didn't want to feel alone anymore.
Information among poets and readers is sacred.
He may be my friend but he deserves to have his secrets somewhere so I chose here.
We dated for a week, 3 years ago.
It's my story not his.
In a way this is justice.

Some say that Letting Go is easy. I am not referencing the song from Frozen. I mentioning the act of Letting Go of Pain and Suffering.
Letting Go of something that you think is suppose to be bounded to you. But your heart pleads no to holding onto the pain and the hurt.
The gut is out interrogating all the memories to see where the beginning. While the mind looks for what is left of the good moments. Letting Go of those guilty feelings and the regret feelings because those feelings shouldn't be there. When you love someone despite all of the gaslighting and abuse those feelings are inevitable.
But when you know you should Let Go of the pain because they no longer bring joy. Maybe it's the fear of losing the hint of anger.
Maybe it's the reminder that they don't control you anymore yet those feelings being present mean Letting Go since there is no memory to justify a victim taking the blame. Even if that victim is you build the courage and let go to find peace within. It isn't easy but the hardest things require the most bravery.

The Desire to kiss her.
The Desire to know her.
The Desire to be with her.
The Desire to prove the world wrong show people what true love really is.
Love is without gender roles. Love without hidden agendas. Love without regard to ability. Love is about effort. Love is about being a dork to voice intentions. Love is about stepping outside the comfortable to do something idiotic for the purpose of selfless courage.
Love is like magic it always comes at a cost. Love isn't easy because if love was easy everyone would have it but they don't.
Love requires loyalty, your broken self, honesty, authenticity, good communication, vulnerability, accountability and the truth of your feelings.

I finally said goodbye to my abusive ex boyfriend. It hard to fall asleep at night but eventually it will get easier. I have a fresh start.
I feel joyful again. I feel like me again and I haven't been me in a long time. I don't feel trapped in the routine of him and I. I forgot what it was like to be happy and excited to hangout with my real friends.
I forgot what it was like to be without him. Yes I am damaged but I am free. My mind feel clearer and my heart is full of light again.

I never thought people cared what I thought of and the words I speak.
I never thought people wanted to listen to my advice and my nerdy pop culture and book references.
I never thought being a creative writer and a poet would turn people's heads my direction.
I never thought knowing psychology, sociology and science facts based off of past random passions would have people wondering my hobbies.
I never thought I was worth genuine smiles and laughter from my closest friends.
Turns out I am worth it all. I am worth loving and caring even though I am a lot to handle. I am worth the warm hugs and real conversations. I am worth the confused looks and smug grins I get from normal people. I outsmart anyone that I don't trust because I am always three steps ahead. I can read the expressions, emotional signals and over inflated egos easily. I tear down walls with a single glance and meltdown glass doors of the soul with a thoughtful comment.

When I read whether it's non-fiction or fiction I analyze it from a writer's perspective. I am studying my life because there is so much I don't know and I am always curious.
Every book I read I learn more about myself. I enjoy reading about mental illnesses. I am learning so much that I can't stop writing poetry. I am processing, healing and growing.
It's like digging deeper within to find what I can live without.

It happens every year. Stores all decorated for Christmas.
People spending money on expensive gifts.
It is romantic the Christmas Walk.
There is hot chocolate. A Christmas tree lighting.
All kinds of singing. All before Christmas.

As most abusers like to put their victims in the honeymoon phase.
Then the sweet guy that you meet becomes a monster come night time.
He doesn't consider your mental health and he doesn't consider your emotional health. It's always him, him but never you, you.
He needs you to be an enabler of his gaslighting abilities.
He needs you to be anxious about his anger.
Always being scared of the monster behind the nice guy mask.
He doesn't care about how many times you say no to his marriage proposals or how many times you shrug off his affections knowing they aren't real.
He wants you to have no boundaries but you establish them anyways hoping to be secure in enforcing them. He still wants all of your attention while ******* up to your better angels.
He doesn't understand that when you can't trust someone there is nothing to build off of except the trauma he gives.
He doesn't understand that he don't know the act of love because of his selfishness. He only understands that if the spotlight is on him then better make a good show.

I will only say this once The Girl with Green Eyes can have her perfect life just without me to save her. I was always her hero. To her I was the perfect vulnerable girl who she could rebuke.
Am I crazy? Yes. Am I beautiful? Hell yeah! Do I need The Girl with Green Eyes? Hell no! She needs me to keep her life interesting and I am sick of her act. I always supported her at choir concerts, musicals and recitals. She always forgot that I existed until we started praying together and singing in praise band together. I am not the only crazy one in the friendship. She abandons anyone who sins more than she does. She patronize and Christianize anyone she can't control. She got a rare cancer while I was in college. She once told me how her doctor visits went.
She never gave up her ego, envy, selfishness and jealousness so she isn't perfect. She wonders why she is empty when she should be wondering why she gave up on people who could have redeemed her. Checkmate princess.

Long ago I had panic attacks every fall and spring.
Long ago my depression would act up during winter and summer.
Long ago I thought I only had anxiety and depression because it's most common in middle schoolers.
Long ago I thought my manic episodes and my panic attacks coexisted together because I was the broken hearted writer who nobody could fix.
Long ago I thought during college I only ever got depressed because my academics were getting more difficult for me.
Long ago I thought during high school that my closest friends called me weird, crazy, silly and smart because of my anxiety got me into awkward conversations with my church friends because only my creative, genius friends could understand my nonsense.
Long ago for every cross country meet I would get nervous.
Long ago I didn't know that I have bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.
Long ago I didn't need to be fixed because I needed to be medicated for my mental illnesses.

Growing up make believe worlds and narratives were my escape from reality. Movies and books had me by the heart.
I tried my best to ignore my mother's abuse with pretending like her calling me worthless most nights didn't hurt, playing Pokemon to be ****** in a world where I was a hero to all, using my talents to gather a crowd that would care about what I did, being disciplined by other adults at daycare because mom was working and dad letting us travel Illinois.
I hate pretending because I want everything to be realistic. I know surprising coming from a writer. Money have always been a problem with my family. I never got everything I wanted which was probably a good thing. Growing up in a rich Christian small town my family didn't follow trends. I got hand-me-downs from my older sister and I still do. My older siblings were spoiled by our parents while my little sister and I had to be resourceful, intelligent, mature, always two steps ahead of our parents and planning each day accordingly. Being middle class Americans isn't the worst. My atheist friend says that I am spoiled even though no I am not. My older siblings got to go to the colleges of their dreams on scholarships while my little sister and I had to go to a local college. My childhood best friend says that I know everyone in town even though I had to learn to be a social butterfly because of my extroverted family through experience. Social skills are keys to thriving in religious small town where being poor is frowned upon and being rich is expected. I may not be normal but I am weird enough to create my own tribe of trusted friends and allies.

My ex-boyfriend thinks that I am the only person who can make him feel happy. He doesn't give anyone at his work a chance because he hates everyone he meets.
He thinks because I follow my parents rules that I am too much of an angel. He let me pick the places to hangout at. He means well and my parents don't know that he is emotionally abusive. My siblings like him. They just think he is a sweet guy.
I haven't told anyone because my family likes him since he is my friend.
I haven't told anyone because I don't know how to break the news to them.

I was used to being wooed by my ex-boyfriend. He wanted my heart but I wanted friendship. He wooed me with books, a t-shirt, roses and Pegasus fudge even coffee yet I never changed my mind.
I was adamant that my heart didn't belong to him. He hated that so he constantly insulted me, called me a ***** and a **** for his own pleasure. The more I faded away from him the more he begged for my heart to be his. I said no to his half-assed proposals, his demeaning love confessions, his wants of *** and his desire to be more than friends because I deserve true love.
There was no spark and no warmth.
It's my first year of not being wooed by him.
It's my first year without him. I am content without him. I am happy without him. I am me without him.

I saw you across from me at choir class in the 6th grade. I fell for you.
The popular choir girl. You blended in so well in this small town.
You told me that I was "brutally honest" in the 7th grade.
My mom didn't understand my obsession with you. You met my best friend with storm blue eyes in the 8th grade. We sang in Praise Band together in the 8th grade. I still don't understand why you were jealous of my best friend.
In freshman year of high school I loss my best friend. You were there for me. We got close.
In sophomore year of high school we went to homecoming together. You looked stunning, we had fun.
In junior year of high school I trusted you with my anxiety and depression.
In senior year of high school we graduated together.
In freshman year of college I came out to you and you rebuked me.
In sophomore year of college I tried talking to you about girls and you shut me down.
In junior year of college my mood swings were drastic and I told you nothing. I dropped out of college during the COVID-19 breakout, my depressive episodes happened when I had exams.
Now we don't hangout anymore. I still know who you are and I remember everything you love. I trusted you. Do you miss me? When people mention me do you even bother to say we are still "best friends"? What do those two words mean to you? You rather be praised by others than be loved and cared for by me. That's your hubris.

Many people do know it.
Many people have experience it.
Something that is freeing, unfiltered, light-hearted, smiles and laughter.
Something bubbly, talkative, kind, caring, thoughtful, too smart for their own good and a low-key comedian.
Yes this a part of me. Where there is darkness, there is also light.
I know so I am the who have to manage both sides.

When I am at war with someone with my wits. I find that most are just princesses begging for attention and are just pawns to their parent's plans. It's boring how easy it is to defeat them because I am a queen because I never needed a prince nor a king. I never defeated them with gossip, I defeated them with words and actions.
Where as they depended on their army, I depended on my intelligence. Those princesses were scared of my insanity.
I always evolved better than before. They were focused on devouring lies and I stuck with the truth. Where as they were cunning, I was caring. See the difference. Life was never about popularity, the status quote nor the power that comes with the crowd. Life have always been about the army you develop yourself, the allies you gave kindness to you in their weakest moments and the heart you forge from the depths of hell. In a way never pretending to be the hero makes you a hero because the cape was always the heart you forge.
The gilded armor always hides a monster that is scared of true intelligence. So scare them good. Make them wish that they never crossed you in the first place.

The sound of pen against paper. It's like two lovers continually making love. An endless symphony of Ink Against Paper.
The Whoosh of the pen with each word. The growl of the paper.
The pen catching it's breath then returning to the paper. The smooth, gentleness of the pen and the fragile, firmness of the paper.
New worlds created with pen and paper. Business deals with pen and paper. Starting a job with pen and paper. Getting medical treatment begins with pen and paper. Beginnings are Ink Against Paper.

The Reality is my big sister and big brother used to hold the family together. Now the responsibilities are passed down to my little sister and I. Sometimes I have no idea what I am doing but trying my best to keep the family together. I didn't know that it would be so much work and so complex.
My big sister and my big brother made the responsibilities look so easy maybe it's because they are natural socializers. Or maybe I have more social development to do. My family is dysfunctional and complains about each other when the other isn't around.
My little sister and I have mental illnesses which makes socializing ******* both of us. My big sister and big brother may seem perfect but they aren't. They are human like me. They were spoiled with attention, love and affection while I knew I was loved since I was child it's just attention and affection weren't a given to me like it was to them. The Reality is I had a somewhat good childhood with my little sister alongside me. I am rebellious, resourceful, resilient and brave. It takes a lot to be all that.

To think procreating as the goal of dating seems shallow.
Why not seek love and trust for a marriage instead of ****** pleasure? ****** pleasure isn't everything.
To lust is gain infatuation from physical attraction. To love is to be selfless beyond reason. To trust is to be vulnerable.

Most days my ex-boyfriend is like a Revolving Door.
He makes my mind spin in circles until I feel like throwing up.
He is the most straight guy I have ever met. I mean that in the worst way possible. I have nothing against straight men. My ex-boyfriend talks about *** as if any girl can stand him for his sexist behavior.
Girls turn him down left and right. I think that is his punishment for his behavior. He thinks of me as his last resort when girls turn him down. I find it to be degrading to have him think that no one can ever love me which is not true. I may be insane but I am worth loving.

I know life makes everyone busy.
Life makes heroes spout out lies and villains monologue about truths.
Deep Down no one is perfect.
Deep Down there is no flawless human. Humans collect secrets over the years. Humans are afraid of their past selves. Humans can't look in the void of darkness without losing their minds of the silence.
Humans betray and abandon each other because popularity tempted them to throw everything they hold dear including their feelings.
Deep Down no one is 100 percent good and no one is 100 percent evil.
That is lie and a myth that humans create to degrade themselves.
Deep Down the insane are free of society's chains and the sane live in comfort of their prisons.
Deep Down the mask is facade of lost dreams and the cloak is to hide emotional scars.

I fix every broken thing in my life: my closest friends, my family dynamics, my acquaintances perspectives and my church friends terms of validation.
I like broken things. They are beautiful in the mundane. They are bizarre and I enjoy what I can. I create social solutions in the matter of minutes. I am broken minded and broken hearted I guess that makes me the most broken of all of my things.
With a early deteriorating mind and manic depressive insanity anything that has a good soul to it is beautiful to me. I observe potential in people and sometimes I help them flourish as humans.
It's what I do. I do what I can but I never invalidate them.
I have seen the worst in humans and the best in people it's lonely sometimes. I get used to it. To be insane is to embrace what you can.
I like broken things. That's my thing and I live without regret for caring.