Funny when your own head is a double edged blade, huh?

I seem to find the imperfection of days to be the most beautiful. The goofy moments, the little mistakes, the figuring things out, the unexpected.

But those same moments sometimes lead me to the nights where I lay down with a little chip on my heart and concede, "Not all days will be beautiful."

I'm happier. I'm stabler. I must concede things are better.

So why can I not concede that I will never be perfect?

These days I end like this sometimes hurt much more than the ones I give up on. These are the days I did all I could and just accept defeat at the end of the day, knowing every day isn't perfect.

Why am I such a starving perfectionist that even stability cannot sate me?

I hate myself when I do this. When I keep on pushing and pushing my own mental ability until I crack. If I push harder the stability of my mental wall will not strengthen. It will only crumble all the faster.

I am never satisfied. I am selfish. I am wrong. There's this darker side to this pure, bubbly girl I show the world. The monster side. The side that I can never be pleased with, and the side that makes sure I can never be pleased with anything else.

I know this is one imperfect day with one imperfect night. But its hard not to be scared that this is a descent into darkness once more. I'm so scared of the dark by now. Please don't make me go back for too long.

This day has been long and disappointing and imperfect. But I just wish I could hate it a little less.

I know this doesn't get me any promises of forgiveness, and I know how much things have been a mess lately and I refused to deal with it. But there are things I should have said instead of counter-arguing and berating you.

I've forgotten to tell you how I've been so excited to learn coding because I like to think it gets me a little closer to you, maybe even lets me understand you a bit more.

I've forgotten to tell you how though I have trouble sleeping having you beside me really comforts me, and though its beyond creepy I'll look at you to feel better.

I've forgotten to tell you how I love going to the movies with you, and hearing you get excited and involved in the story, and its like you forget all your school troubles for awhile, something I seem to have forgotten to do.

I've forgotten to tell you how I'm stupidly afraid to ask you to do things, like kiss you til we're dizzy, giggle til our cheeks hurt, or have really good *** (thought about that a lot today, but I was too much of a ******* to say something).

I've forgotten to tell you that you light up my day, and though I'm a moody ******* even just being around you helps. I know I don't act like it, but it does, so I need to get some ***** and just ask you on a date like a middle schooler and get that out of the way.

I've forgotten to tell you how I started a new novel, and that my mood diary has been going up lately in moods. That I was really hoping that at least my time with you next week won't be so bad.

I've forgotten to tell you that I want us to play mass effect, even if it means I'll swoon over Garrus half the time. I promise all my kisses are reserved by you.

I've forgotten to tell you how worried I've been for you, about your friends being more distant. I've been trying to just let you do whatever, at my own expense. Alone time is great (especially for these poems and homework and figuring out that new novel) but I should have been more open about it. Communication is key, especially for us, and I should have been more open about things.

I've forgotten to tell you how afraid I've been of being lost without you after next fall, but I just need to get my ***** in place and enjoy my time with you. Its silly to ruin time you have for some separation in the future.

I've forgotten to tell you that you look so **** sometimes, but I don't want to bother you because I know school worries you. And I know that goes with the bad communication stuff again, and I need to get my **** together, because I know you wouldn't mind a **** time or two.

I've forgotten to tell you that I really love horror movies, especially bad ones, and I really love Photoshop, and I really love tech at the moment, and I really love Diablo 3, and I really love spending time with you and yes I agree alone time is good and I shouldn't get angsty at bad times and make you think I never want you alone. I need to get my afraid bar to cool its rollers.(PS that's my new favorite phrase) You are my favorite person and I should and want to tell you everything. I need to get this together.

I've forgotten to tell you I've been trying to lose weight again, less because I hate myself and more because I want to look hotter for you, and have been eating less sweets and less food in general.

I've forgotten to tell you I want to learn to make paper cranes and watch gargoyles and be more in-tune with you. I'll watch Super Troopers, I'll even watch Master in Disguise, if you truly want to. I can't just say no to everything you want to do together. Why? Because if I always say no to together things, you'll start always doing them alone.

I've forgotten to tell you that your scruff is adorable and its kinda hot you're a little taller and your hair is beautiful. That I love goofiness and tickles and nose kisses and **** grabs and making you smile. I know I've messed things up but I want to all I can in my power to get it together, because you are special. You once told me you were like a shooting star and hard to catch and I rolled my eyes, but you are. I love you and have never met someone like you before.

I've forgotten to share my stories and my life and all the things that made you love me and even me love me, and I'm going to fix that. I will not sit by and let you forget me.

One last thing.

I've forgotten to tell you I love you oodles, and that will never change.

Things aren't even bad. I really shouldn't even be freaking out. The papers are sorted and the kids are alright, but I know its incoming and I don't know what to do.

You see, I hate my birthday.

It gives my family another opportunity to disappoint and show that they don't understand me for one more consecutive year. I'd rather they send a simple note that they love me instead of things I'd never need nor want.

And the friends. Even my best of friends, or at least those who I thought were, can utterly wreck my birthday. Last year, my roommate moved out and barely anyone spent time with me. Every birthday party when I was young i spent at least some part of it crying. And when I stopped celebrating them, my friends would get me passive aggressive presents like getting me journals when they felt I needed to deal with myself more and talk to them less.

I hate birthdays.

I prefer the most meaningful five dollar trinket or hand-made thing over the three-hundred dollar jewelry that i will never wear in my life. I don't care if people don't go overboard for my birthday. Honestly I prefer they don't.

I just prefer they care and it really hurts when its pretty obvious by their present they more picked it to convenience them, to make them feel better.

No, Grandpa, sending me hundreds of dollars of makeup will not make me forget all the years you ignored me for my brother and the other cousins. It still doesn't. It doesn't make up for you tearing me down each time I have an idea that does not align with your ideals. When you are so pained by the thought of me having my own thoughts that don't coincide with yours you insist I am young and dumb and know nothing. Funny you act like you know everything when you don't even bother to know me.

And my high school best friends. You complained about walking on eggshells around me, and stressing about my feelings, while I felt you barely were treating me like a human being. So the perfect remedy was to hand me several cheap journals so that I can write things out. Of course I'm left-handed and writing things out on paper hurts after about five minutes, but awesome, thanks, I totally feel the love.

Why in the world should I care about my day when every time I try to, everyone else knocks it down?

Of course I stopped trying to make it special when it always went wrong. Of course I get uncomfortable about it now. Of course I feel more dread than excitement on the one day things are supposed to be nice for me. Of course I'm so scared about it incoming, because I don't want to spend another birthday with no memories, or ones bad enough to make me dread the next one even more.

At this point I don't even know if I care about my birthday. I wish it would disappear. I want to love it and feel special and feel loved but every one I can remember didn't manage to make anything better. I feel worse with everyone that comes.

Maybe this is why I love Christmas, because my parents and grandma get me such nice things and my family gets so cozy and cheery around Christmas, that even the painful reminders don't get to me as much, and even if they do I get to see my family's smiling faces when they open presents from me, and it makes me feel a little better about the whole thing.

I should love my birthday, but I don't. And I'm sad that after 20 years I'm so worn down that even the thought of it incoming makes me want to forget it.

I can feel it wearing on my skin, a deterioration of my bones, sandpaper on my heart, carving holes and smoothness in paces were they don't belong, polishing me into something it isn't. Inside my head I'm screaming but its hard when everyone knows better, everyone is telling me what to do, no one is willing to let me just do things my way, those ways are wrong, always wrong, and I need to stop them or else. Or else what? I'm not even sure I just know its bad and bad is bad and that's something I'm not supposed to be doing.

My body is caving in on itself, but I don't have the time for it, I'm late, so very late, for all the important dates and I can't let the axes fall and the queens to get angry for I can't waste any time with my head chopped off. I have to keep it together. I must keep it together. I have no choice but to keep it together.

I can't lose anything. I've built my mountain of progress and though my heart is being sandpapered into a mess and a circle of conformity and pain, I can't stop I can't breathe if I breathe a breath of my own air they reject it and my new lungs they gave me reject all air that is original. I can't breathe. I can't keep things together. Everything is a broken cacophony of madness and I cannot silence them and they fill my lungs and bleed me of oxygen until my body is panicking and I'm not breathing.

I want to feel better. I want the monsters gone and the fear and the shattered fragments to find their place somewhere safer than the tips of my fingers and the center of my heart. I'm so scared. I'm so tired.

I'm tired of trying and failing and having no time to breathe and when I try to give myself time to breathe I'm not better and things hurt more and everything spiraling down, down, down, and I can't stop it its like my brakes are broken and I'm careening into traffic and I'm trying to save myself but my airbags are broken and my windshield is shattered and my bones are brittle and my seat-belt is choking me and I know that if I don't get the brakes to stop soon I'll be dead but I know if I stop driving I'll hate myself more so I pray to unnamed gods and figments of my imagination to let me live past one more intersection so that I don't have to stop never stop and just keep on going forward.

I don't know if I'll make it, but I can't stand the idea of braking now. I could lose everything I've ever dreamed of, and I can't stand the thought of that.

I'm so tired and everything hurts, but I can't brake now, I can't sleep now. It might **** me but losing everything would **** me too. Stuck between a whirlpool and a seven headed *****, guess I'm picking the ***** and hoping I have enough marbles by the end to make it through.

Please stop being tired.

I've seen you in my past and in my memories, but now I see you reaping tears from my best friend's face. I've been like you, I've been in love with people like you, and funnily enough you're my friend so I hate to throw stones and things that have kept me afloat.

But get your **** together.

She is funny and understanding and lovable, and you cannot just throw her aside with no explanation and no sympathy like a rag doll. I want so badly to slap you, me, anyone who has done this to someone. People deserve to know why someone looks at them and doesn't think they're enough. People deserve to be respected and cared for. Hearts are heavy burdens to bear alone, and I'll be ****** if you let her stand alone in the rain with her shattered in her hands because she thought you could be someone to her.

Get your **** together.

I'm your friend, but I don't deal in being dishonest and confusing and never making up your mind about the important things. I don't want either of you hurt, but don't pull *******, don't string her along, don't keep changing your mind. Make decisions, act, and stop being so afraid for five seconds to do something for yourself that could make you happier.

Get your **** together.

You both deserve better than silly fears of change. I'm afraid of everything and I cry and get anxious but I get over it. I don't let them ruin me and the relationships I have created. I am not just critiquing you, I understand so well fear and doubts and pain, and I used to let it eat me until I wasn't me anymore. I'd make decisions based off safety and being alone rather than connecting with people and being a better me. But that left me suicidal and dead inside. Maybe you won't be so extreme, but don't be so **** afraid. It'll **** you far faster than caring.

Get your **** together.

Not just for her or me or anyone. Mostly for yourself. Because I see you, in the skeleton of my pain, in the shadows on my walls, and no one deserves that. I'm asking you to get it together because I care and I understand. I'm asking because I see you.

I'm trying.

Things are complicated and I have no medication nor therapy, but I'm trying.

The endless dial tones and hold music are my trickles of hope now, as I beg, I pray to the Gods I do not know that this call will be the one, this one will get me help. But each one ends with an empty "I'll call you back" and a tearful acknowledgement that they probably won't.

I want to be tolerable, I want to find myself. I am alive and I am breathing but my soul is drowning and gasping for air, suffocating under the tremendous pressure and the weight of the world.

My sanity is slipping, and the impulses are getting stronger. Its getting harder and harder to hold my marbles in my hands when my fingers are broken. I twitch and squirm and fell all my nerves ache for madness, and my rigorous order is struggling to keep my thoughts corralled.

I stare now at my empty hands and just wish to make it through the month. I don't fear dying, no, I fear ruining all the good things I have built up in the past year. I do not want to lose it. I cannot lose it.

First I wanted understanding, then control. But now, with understanding in my heart and control out of the question, all I want is to stay. I want wake up from this foggy dream of insanity and see the one I love lying beside me and a novel on my fingertips, instead of alone and numb because I pushed all that mattered away. I don't want to lose my memory of all the beauty I fell in love with in the past year. I found it and caught it and now that it has stayed I never want it to leave. I will not push it away. I cannot push it away. Not again.

They held my hand while I was crippled and alone, while the emotions were so strong I couldn't see straight, while all the people I loved faded into my memory. I don't want them to fade too. Never. I want my memory intact, I want to keep them for as long as I can.

Bipolar will always hold control over me, and I cannot control it. I realize that. But I want it to be manageable, I want to be a person, I want to feel real and together and I want to stay. I always was afraid of everyone else leaving, but then why was I the one running?

Thing are hard and they are complicated and its all pain and its all happiness. Things never will be easy, but as long as I can stay intact I can accept that. I just cannot lose me, not again, never again.

Bipolar may be here to stay, but I am too.

Nothing stays, nothing lasts, not even my moods. Funnily enough because that used to be the only consistent thing.

I want things to stay, I want to stay.

One moment I feel like crying, I feel like screaming, I feel like punching, I feel like dancing I don't even know the words in my head so I have no clue how I'm concocting any words on my fingertips.

I am so obsessed about my fingertips because of how I write. Probably because their motion keeps my heartstrings from breaking.

I want to go home and I want to spend all day with him. I didn't even intend on making this romantic but its all I want. I am so tired. so tired of these tears and pain and whatever the hell is going on with me. My impulses keep pulling me away and apart and left and right, but I know when I sit still for a second all I want is him but my synapses are trying to take that from me and I hate them.

I hate them for always ruining everything. Before I always just let them but I don't want this I want this to stay I want to see him thirty years from now lying next to me.

Its a twisted mediocre life when I want to stab myself, I have to destroy  my thoughts, just to live and that's sick.

I just want to go home. I want to cuddle up in bed and be safe. I need help. I need medicine. But no one will give me any of it and I'm so sick I'm dying. I'm losing me.

I need help.