In bed. It’s past 2am. Feels later.B had a lot of home truths to tell about me and stuff I mainly don’t do.

I feel kinda useless. I’ve never felt more affected by my disability of bipolar. I’ve tried to forge a path for myself in areas I enjoy like anthropology and poetry.

With anthropology I couldn’t hack the masters and anyway I don’t think academia wants me. If it was gonna happen it would have happened with the first bite of the cherry.

Im valiantly trying with poetry. But it must be said the reservoirs of talent and enthusiasm are a little meagre. Essay writing, a little poetry and cultural writing maybe but I am a complete unknown honing my craft. Ashley needs money now. Frankly I need money now not over some abstract success horizon.

I think I need to do a bit more, be more focussed but I forget and lapse.

I need to reach out for help. I need to approach my family first thing (although for some unknown reason there seems to be a limit to what they can do).

I need to reach out to my nurse and if she can’t help I need to request to change her.

Another thing I’m gonna contact T and the alternative dementia guy.


B is under stress.

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