I’m not as happy as I look in this photo.
I’ve been diagnosed Bipolar II. Decided to see a professional after a depressive “episode” that lasted for months (probably had something to do with Blur.) For some reason, it doesn’t feel right. I can’t put it into words. This may just have something to do with having been proven wrong about the assumptions I’ve had all these years being tossed to the curb. I take the meds anyway.
There’s a guy I like. Works at this restaurant I recently discovered and has since fallen in love with (the place, not the guy.) He reminds me of Bucky Barnes, for some reason. He does the whole eye-fucking thing with me. I may be a little bit obsessed with him; I’ve been trying to find out what his name is for weeks. But I skip out on the place for a month and the next thing I know, he’s got a band around his left ring finger. Fuck me, right?
Then there’s also this guy I sort of like. Not really, but he’s a cool guy and we click. Anyway, he likes my friend. Surprise?
I have a credit card now and will be handling the family’s bills.
Been going out and seeing movies with friends.
I went on Tinder again. This time I actually got to talk to some people. There’s this one guy who likes memes and has a lot of ink. I like him but he can’t hold a decent conversation–always turns it into weird “edgy” one-liners. He’s the only person I actually go back to Tinder for, but my app’s been fucked up for a while, so I don’t know.
I’m still unemployed. I’ve taken up baking to pass the time. I don’t know what to do with my life, still. But I’m moving, little by little.
Believe me, I am still alive