Maybe in The grotesque metamorphosis of a Bi-Polar human into a Tri-polar monster.

I had a long talk with my mom tonight after work. It was really nice. I love that woman so much more than makes sense, because I have also had so much anger at that woman.

The anger is mostly gone…I have come to understand that just because you grow older doesn’t mean that you grow wiser, and even if you grow wiser, it doesn’t mean that you know fucking anything.

I used to harbor a lot of anger towards my mother and my father, and in the last few years a lot of that anger has disappeared.

…

I have been thinking about death a lot lately.

This last year I had two people who meant a lot to me get murdered.
They are not the first times I have had to deal with death, but I have never had to deal with murder before.
It’s different.

Lately I’ve been realizing how important it is…to make connections.
To make REAL connections.

I’ve come to a point where most of my real connections have faded to casual acquaintance, and I am trying to make new connections, but it’s harder now than it has ever been…maybe I have too much baggage…I don’t know…but lately I have been feeling very lonely and it’s becoming increasingly clear that when I lose somebody you can’t just start over and replace them and fill that void.

I am going to get to a point in my life where everyone I know is gone and I will be left alone.
I mean…not if I die first…but still…it’s a realization that I have never really had to struggle with.

This last year I had the love of my life leave me on the same day that my cat ran away…that’s on top of the murders, and now my trusty car is dead.

I have lost a lot this year…I lost my apartment, I lost my job, I lost my freedom and independence, I lost a friend, I lost a nephew, I have pretty much lost everything that mattered to me…and yet here I am…I am still alive, and I am still going through the motions, and I am still waking up every day, and I am still going to work even though I died in January and after the doctors revived me they told me I should be on disability, but I refuse to be on disability because to me that will equate to giving up, and I am a lot of things but I am not a fucking quitter…I don’t fucking give up…I am a god damn warrior of the light and I will keep fighting until my last breath.

My mom is taking care of my grandparents in their old age, and soon I am going to lose them too…I am my grandfathers favorite grandson, and he has a lot of grandchildren, but I am his favorite, and I haven’t been the best grandson to him…I haven’t been the model Mormon, I haven’t been the model citizen, I haven’t even been around as much as I should have been because I have been a shitty addict and a crazy person…but for whatever reason, he can’t remember anyone’s name but mine…he calls other people me…he tells me I am his favorite…my grandfather is one of the best human beings who has ever lived, and I can’t fathom why he thinks I am one of his favorite humans who has ever lived.

I just can’t wrap my head around it.

In every sense of the human definition, I have been a failure.

I am Bi-polar-1.

I am a drug addict.
I am an alcoholic.
I am a sex addict.
I am a love addict.
I am co-dependent.
I am a genius.
I have wasted my potential.
I am diseased, and undesirable.
I am a terrible “man.”
I am queer.

I am…
…and abomination in the eyes of the lord.

And yet, my Grandpa loves me.

Fuck.
Why can’t I love me the way he loves me?

Meh.

Maybe I’m just thinking about it too much.
Maybe I just need to get over myself.

Maybe I need to move to Utah, because that’s where my mom and my sisters and my brother and my grandparents are…you know, because they’re all Mormon and they decided moving there would be the bees knees.

Maybe I…
Maybe I…

Maybe I…

…but what do I know?