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

I finally booked my flight to SLC, only to find out that my mom and two of my sisters are going to be in another state attending to some dumb bullshit that I can’t even talk about.
So I need to re-schedule that shit.

Let’s see…if I wasn’t on my meds, I’d probably be getting pretty manic right now, which would probably be awesome. I mean, I tell myself it would be awesome, but my mom reminded me tonight that even though I liked being manic I always hated the consequences of it…which is true. I usually tend to fuck some shit up when I’m manic.

I’m definitely feeling better though.
I have been riding my bike and I haven’t been eating very much, and I haven’t been drinking.
I only say I haven’t been eating so much because I’m trying to lose some of the weight I gained while I was binge drinking. I got a bit of a belly and some chubby cheeks going on, I saw a picture of myself and was kind of shocked.

I think getting contacts helped with my confidence a little bit, too.

Last night I was having a dream about my ex, Rachael, and we were just laying in bed and laughing and talking about nothing in particular and having a nice time…and then I was hanging out with my best friend, Alec, and we were drinking beers and having a good time and we were going to go meet up with my sister and her ex-husband.

I love my dreams.

My dreams are strange, I don’t think I dream like most people do from what I hear.
When I dream, it’s not like I’m watching a movie, it’s more like I’m living a second life.
It’s a continuous story and I kind of just pick up where I left off every time I dream.
The only truly fantastic thing that ever happens in my dreams is my ability to fly.

Well…sometimes I have kind of different dreams, where I’m working in another dimension and I’m actually helping to maintain the written code that makes up the fabric of reality as we understand it.

But for the most part I’m just a pretty regular flying dude who hangs out with his friends and drinks beers and smokes cigarettes and hangs out with his ex’s a lot and takes a bunch of road trips and lives in some shitty raggedy old two bedroom apartment with some lady and her child…that’s me.

I have been desperately seeking some sort of meaning to life.
For a long time now, I’ve looked in a lot of different places.
I’ve had some promising leads.
They’ve all come up short.

I need to turn back into myself.

I need someone to love me and cuddle me.

I need to stop letting my skin crawl every time someone touches me.
Seriously.
I can’t even shake someones hand without feeling creeped out…but I keep my composure, I maintain. I’m good at that.

Life is such a joke.
A big inside joke.

I love you.

-Dane