Funny. I strike up the faintest interest in a guy, and my brain goes into “Remember how you hurt your ex-fiancé?” mode. I feel like I’m being taunted, which is shit. Yesterday was great–I wandered around downtown Gilbert, wandered around Fountain Hills, wrote a couple pages on a short story, attacked Taylor with perfume in the middle of Walmart. . . . And now today. I woke up thinking about him, and barely made it out of bed. I don’t want anything to do with the real world right now. I want to curl up with a book, a beer, and a side of sleeping pills.
The lamotrigine only takes care of so much. I mean, life still has the potential to suck outside of bipolar disorder. I just hoped I wouldn’t still be dealing with these feelings more than a year later. Why can’t it all just be okay already?