Loopy, Lonely and Lost

Archive for March 14th, 2017

It’s been a while. A long time, really. I’ve been doing okay but I just haven’t had many words.

I’ve had a few triumphs, but didn’t have the confidence to mention them. I can’t say I’ve achieved something without my brain screaming that I’m a stupid arrogant show-off who’s never really achieved anything anyway.

I’ve had a few challenges, but didn’t have the energy to mention them. With enormous and exhausting effort, I remain functioning, but it doesn’t leave much room for anything else.

I live a life filled with regret. If I could go back in time, talk to my past self, I’d have so much to say, but the gist of it would all boil down to: Do everything differently. Don’t fuck it up.

My life is so small. Markers of time are difficult. Birthdays, New Years. What am I doing? I feel like I’m just idling away time in Death’s waiting room. Surely there is more than this.

I have nothing and no-one. I have a job, but it’d be a stretch to call it a career. I have my family, but they have each other too, and I think they prefer each other to me. I have acquaintances, but not friends. People I like, people I get on with, but no-one I’d ever dream of daring to need.

Everyone I know has careers and houses and partners and children and pets and hobbies and fucking…hopes, dreams and aspirations.

I have nothing.

What the fuck am I doing? It’s too late now, already, to sort things out – even if I had the energy and the money and the know-how – it’s too late to be normal. I don’t mean I’m abnormal in an interesting way. I’m not quirky or creative or inspired. I’m abnormal in that I don’t have a life.

I don’t have a life and I don’t know how to have one. And all I have to look forward to is more of the same.

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Hello

My name is Laura. I was once told that I have cyclothymia. This blog is mostly where I write about living as a person with extremes and instability of mood, and the history of a life that led to the development of those symptoms.

I complain a lot, I'm very repetitive, unreliable, and I tend to contradict myself.

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