I hate my bipolar disorder.

I don't find it fair that while some women are raped on a daily/weekly basis, children watch their families murdered before their eyes because of their totalitarian government, people are dying from hunger because of poverty and I just lie in my nice cozy bed all day in complete and utter woe. How pathetic I feel, as I lay here.

All my life, my dad's family has preached to me about being self efficient - my stepmom, a person who I loved more than anyone else in the entire world, was the most self dependent person I ever met in the entire world. So why this? I know I'm smart, but each day I sit rotting away, I feel my intelligence rotting with me...

I read half as fast as I used to. I can't remember information from hours ago, fuck it, I can't even bare to get out of bed. Me typing this is my attempt at dragging myself out, even if I'm only sitting up.

I write my blog always. Even when I'm not at the computer I hear words. Words words words words words. I like words. I always have. I just wish I could do more with them than complain.

A lot of bipolars have it worse than me so why the fuck do I wallow so much?

I wish I could be more like Katy Hepburn... All her life she was motivated by "I'll show them....I'll show them... I'll show them..." Mind over matter. She just kept going and going and couldn't bare to stay still. It sounds simple - if after the first month of constant moving forward, will it become easier? Will I become numb to this undertow...?