Whee!

A joyful day in the life of bipolar disorder. I awoke with a burning desire to invade Ye Olde Navy with my particular brand of Celtic spearing, despite the fact that so doing would erode the very funds I promised my love I would save for him. Last night we exchanged rings on our blanket-swathed plaid couch. I've always felt that couch had character simply for choosing to remain upright in the face of its plaidness. To celebrate the couch's stellar sense of identity, I chose long ago to festoon it with a pink plaid blanket. (My, but that does look more purple than pink!)

So to make a long bout of musing short--did the exchange of rings trigger what turned out to be a hellish, emotionally volatile day? I nearly threw up again this afternoon for the first time in months. I'm glad I didn't, but I still feel a deep gnawing at soul level. And after I so graciously... erm... graced Ye Olde Navy with my funds (rust-coloured corduroys are SO the bomb), I couldn't enjoy what I'd bought because I felt wracked with guilt over spending money I'd promised to lend to my love. The sight of them, all cutely folded in their wrinkly plastic bag (I. Love. Clothes.), was enough to make my stomach lurch. (Unrelated to the near-bulimic episode, however; that took some ice cream to not-quite-accomplish.)

Did I do something dishonourable just to ruin something that was so good, so pure, last night? Is that my MO? (GEE, is it?)

I wish I had someone to talk to about this. Yes, ladies (and the rare gentleman) who stumble across my blog, I have no friends. I am such a loser, such an abhorrent weird undesirable, that I literally have not one friend to my credit. I wonder--what happened to cause that, anyway? I used to have literally dozens of friends. Not quite at my beck and call, but still. Friends. If I was having a day better relegated to amateur Gothic novels, I had people to talk to. Today was so horrible, I went out and created my own blog just so that I could "talk" to it. Which obviously includes an element of exhibitionism, as I own multiple paper journals.

Which means one thing: I've become so lonely that I've opened myself to the Interweb. Do me a favour and just don't even post.