Angry. Paranoid. Tired.

I've been so angry lately. Angry and hiding it. Coping. My norm. But I am. So. Angry. Triggered by thoughts of abuse and what I took. Silently took. It's all I can seem to authentically write about. I guess I never really allowed myself to go down sex abuse road long enough to feel anything. But I'm there now and open and raw.

I'm paranoid. Afraid I look angry to the world. Afraid of being on stage tomorrow night because of how I've been feeling the past few (several) days. I know that everything is temporary, including this feeling, but I'm afraid of its presence in my right now.

I don't want to do anything and I want everyone to leave me the fuck alone for the next few days. No, I don't want to be in an accident and end up in a hospital or have something tragic happen or anything like that. I just fuck. Ing. Need a minute.

I'm tired. Tired of my on voice when I speak to friends and family. Tired of pretending to be ok this week. Tired of whining about my life. This is that side of being bipolar that sucks. The feeling I know so well. The feeling that comes from who fucking knows where. The shit that lands on me. I've been feeling these fuckung ups and downs since fucking middle school. I didn't understand it then and I'm no better at it now. So what it has a name.

I would love to hear some good poetry tonight. Hear a song. Watch someone play the guitar. Hide under a sweater and hat and sink into words that take me somewhere else.

I will get through this. That's what I do. I always do. This is not permanent.