One of the bad things about writing a publically accessible blog is when you want to write something very personal, very deep, that is somewhat exposing. Its almost like you wish that friends, family, and others could read it and then forget it, move it to their subconscious so that they still sorta know that its there, but they don’t really know enough that it makes things uncomfortable.

I don’t like talking with anyone about my fun mental rollercoaster rides, least of all family members. I don’t like people bringing it up. At the same time, one of the great things about having a mental illness and being me is being able to analyze every action and determine how my daily seratonin dose is affecting me. Such was, and still is, the case today, and over the last few days.

I can look away, logically, and see myself, and tell myself that all of my insecurities and sadness and all is just chemical, its not me, but that’s not something you can tell your emotions. Laying on Andrew’s bed, watching drivel on television, with my eyes closed, listening to everyone playing football in the halls, it is nice, even for a brief moment, for someone to correct me, just a bit, and say no, some people do love you. That makes a big difference.

I’ve got a great roommate, I’ve met great people here, great professors, everything. I absolutely love my experiece. When I lasho out or feel sad, its completely me, and not them. And I try the best I can to control it. But it is hard, especially when so many other people have someone (eg, significant other) to rely on, to hug. Not me.

If you’re readin this and you go to school here, or are at home, don’t bring it up. I really, really don’t want to talk about it, just a bit of support every now and again, a shoulder squeeze or a nice word, goes a long way. It does for all of us, but for me especially, especially right now.

And for enemies reading this in the future – I am still my cold, logical self, even when I’m in these vulnerable states, so no, you will not triumph. Sorry. 😛