Must be December 1st. Rent’s due, there may be freelance work (but there may not), still haven’t found a roommate so paying full rent. Distractions aren’t helping. I’m swallowed in anxiety and am freaking out. Someone put me out of my misery. Or, ya know, help me find a job. Or something. Anything.

Okay, technically it’s 4:15, and it’s only me here. I’m at work. And I’m seriously bored. There’s nothing to do. Except spin in my chair. Which I’ve done. Should’ve brought a book. I’ll have plenty of time to read those soon enough. I’m not good at being idle. Praying for work to come in, and…

So the story I was going to tell, which I waited until tonight to do so, is bittersweet. I waited because this was our second date. But it just wasn’t there for her. She finds me attractive but she’s not ready to date, apparently. Okay then.

I have a story to tell but I’m tired and it’s late, so I guess it’s going to have to wait. Long story short, I went on a coffee date and it went… very well.

The roommate moved out today. Knew it was coming, but thought it wasn’t until the end of September. And he hadn’t even started packing until yesterday, so my confusion is justified. And there’s still some of his things he’ll need to pick-up. I’ve been thinking for a while now that I wanted my own place.…

I need to be in control. So much so, that I overthink things and self-sabotage. But nights like tonight, with alcohol imbibed (in moderation), things loosen up and I actually end up… happy. Until I overthink it and then I get wound up again. There’s a lesson here.

I seriously need something to change. No. I need to change something. It won’t happen for me; I have to take control and make it happen. Just wish I knew what that something was.

I haven’t written in here for months. I think I got self-conscious, worried about what people would think. I need to remember that doesn’t matter. This is where I get to sort shit out.

I was rediagnosed a year ago, from depression to bi-polar 2 with depressive anxiety. It was explained to me, and I thought I understood just what it meant. And then this week happened, putting shit in perspective. One of the markers of this disease (and yes, it’s a disease) is the compulsive need to be…

I’m really struggling against my brain tonight. I wish there was an off button. Or at least a pause. Anything to stop me second-guessing every move that I make.