it's natural

Four days straight of 3 hours of sleep and I'm super irritable and now I'm questioning again if I have bipolar 2.

I'm making art again, like I'm trying to get a socmed presence set up so I can tell people where they can even find me and my work. It's making me so fucking anxious, and I'm pissed that it's happening. Like I can feel my fight of flight kicking in. I'm trying to just enjoy it but God...

Sometimes I have days where I just feel deeply, deeply unwell. I feel like an alien. Like nothing I do will matter. Nothing I've done has mattered. I know this isn't true but it destroys me. Nothing feels good or worth it. It will pass but in the moment it feels so bad. And being aware that it is an illusion is a special kind of hell too. Like even this deep, persistent emptiness isn't real. This thing that's lived with me my entire life, an ever present dissatisfaction with the world and myself, even that is a fabrication. Why let a false idea bother me. Why let any of this bother me. None of it is real or matters. Then why am I so bothered. Why am I never the same person for longer than a few weeks it seems. Longer now than it used to be. But I get so tired of trying to thread my existence between overwhelm and meaninglessness.

I am back in the place. A room large enough for the world, I cannot see the walls but I feel them. Doors are different. I step through them by accident. Room to room to room. My presence changing on every arrival.

I feel so weird and small and misunderstood. I try to be authentic. The things that bring me joy they don't understand. The things that unsettle me make no sense to them.

Thinking about nuance in submission.