i constantly feel bipolar. like after fun nights i feel so alone and empty. even sometimes in the company of friends, i still don't feel whole. i'm still here. i'm still carrying on. but i still feel like a corpse. dead just walking amongst the living. but somehow my insides just don't seem to match up. i don't know how to fix this head of mine. this heart of mine. i don't know if its just fear or if its just the rain. i can't tell the difference. nothing makes sense anymore. it'd just be nice sometimes to have someone to understand all the morbid, dark shit that goes on in my head. or the fact that i love my scars and i don't really want them to go away, or how i am always interested by really unnatural and twisted things. i'm already convinced i will be alone until i die at 95. and to be honest, i've pretty much accepted that. i just don't believe there's anyone that could possibly handle me or comprehend these thoughts of mind, this stupid, bloody organ beating in my chest. i am a mess. day and night. i can compose myself but i'm just cleverly stitched together by pieces of random confidence and mismatched fabrics of the past. i don't know. i don't know what i want. just floating between the thin lines of minutes and breaths. nothing more.