Journal

Wednesday, December 25, 2002- I spend Christmas Day locked away in my apartment, venturing out only to pick up the newspaper dropped by my doorstep. I never looked at the sky or felt the fresh brisk air. The reasons for this shall become apparent soon.

The purpose of this feeble work may seem to be for gathering sympathy or an outlet for revolting self-pity. But the truth of the matter (and I apologize for not keeping my sentences short and to the point) is that I hope this may be used to help others with my affliction.

There are some idealists who believe if one is born with a handicap, that one will rise to the challenge, overcome it, and live the American Dream. They are fools who do not know what it is to be cursed.

It is my hope that anyone in the future who is actually taking the time to read this will recognize my point of view that Murphy’s Law does exist, that it is not productive to have dreams and high goals, and that the world really is a dark and gritty place. I hope to bring a dose of realism to the table, as opposed to the self-serving, self-help, new age puke that the media and government promote.

Let me address my critics right now- Yes, I know that I am skewed. Yes, I know that I am being negative, cynical, pessimistic, and dark. But to me, that is how the world is. My view is simply one of six billion human viewpoints on this dying planet.

Do not be deceived- I am may be flawed and my mind defected, but I can function in this society. If you interacted with me in a social environment I would be polite, understanding, intelligent, and attentive. If I would see that you meant me no harm, I may even be charming or funny. If you treat me with respect, I would give it right back to you. If you act like a barbarian, I will either cease interacting with you or attack back. “Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”- Doctor David Banner.

If you invited me over your house to have dinner with your family, I would complement them regarding the food or the décor. I would not snoop around or disturb any part of the room. I would not be envious of it. If you left me alone, you could trust that I would not steal anything.

If I went on a date with you, I would look my best, be punctual, tell you how beautiful you look, buy you dinner and whatever else you wanted. I would be the perfect gentleman. I may kiss you on the cheek at the end of the night, and I would never be pushy in terms of physical contact.

If I worked with you, I would do my best to combine our talents and skills to work as a well-oiled machine. I would obey all of the work environments rules and regulations.

Yet, if I allowed you to come into my mind you would be experiencing a nightmare. If lesser men would wear my shoes for one day, they would probably kill themselves. No amount of medicine or therapy could make the thoughts go away. No amount of happiness could make the intense feelings go away. And worst of all, the one who wears my shoes would inherit my ugly history of failed relationships, destroyed hopes, embarrassing episodes, and criminal behavior.

Wednesday, December 25, 2002- As I look back at my life this Christmas, I can only have good thoughts about it and the positive direction I am headed. I do not take what I have achieved for granted for one second! I’ve tried my best to take advantage of good opportunities and tried to make the best out of negative situations.

Yes, it’s tough sometimes. Having a bi-polar manic-depressive disorder certainly makes life a roller coaster. But those were the cards I was dealt. I believe in reincarnation and karma. I hold the belief that the reason I was not born normal is because of things I did in a previous life. The offenses probably were not serious. After all, I was reborn as a human, and humans have it much easier than the survival of the fittest world of the animals and insects.

The truth is that I have no real identity. I am an emotional and intellectual chameleon- able to change colors depending on my environment or the people that I am with. I am simply a corkscrew in the ocean, bobbing from one idea to the next.

I could never be normal. My problem is that I desire to be normal. Having this disease enhances my creativity- but so what? It’s not like I’m going to be a professional writer or something.

You don’t know how it is to be so aware of thought and emotions from not only yourself, but from the people around you. The emotions get amplified, and if one is not in control, they could easily overcome you.