Wham!

So I'm down again. I'm not quite sure why, besides the chemical reasons, because things aren't actually that bad at the moment.

Living back at home sucks. I'm so calm and collected in the rest of my life now, compared to what I am at home. My mother can say two things and have me frothing at the mouth, when it's almost impossible for anyone else to get a rise out of me. If I still saw my father on a regular basis, he'd be doing the same thing.

Which is so odd, because I really try to remain as emotionally detached to them as possible. It's impossible to consider one's own morality when your parents are looking out over your shoulder.

Just for reference, not too long ago I saw a L&O: Criminal Intent that revolved around a girl getting treatment for bipolar. She ended up being swayed by a formerly depressed rockstar that'd had electroshock treatments. At the end of the show, the prosecutor goes up to the rockstar, asks him some questions about his depression, and then says something to the effect of "Don't you think the shock treatment worked? You're a rockstar now."

Sometimes I wish they still tortured us. This gray blanket suffocating me shouldn't be able to hold me down.

But it does. And when she says, "It's just a choice that you've made," I want to go f'ing ballistic. You don't think being gay is a choice, why do you think that being depressed is a choice.

And maybe it is my life, but if that makes you think that I'm in control you're more crazy than I am.