I feel like it has been forever since I wrote anything on here. Looking back it has been a long time, at least it is a long time in the context with my war with myself. This is a war. I would say it is a battle but in my mind battle implies a probable ending. Wars can go on forever, wars are something that seems to be profoundly supernatural. Sure humans go to war, sure we often create war, but our wars are only a shadow to the wars within us, the spiritual and mental wars that define us. I know I have not been doing enough to keep my side of the war advancing. I have just been busy expanding the fronts that I must fight along. New definitions of appropriate relationships, a further strengthening with of what I believe, but none of this is really fighting the war is?

Last Saturday the girl I wanted to go out with told me she wasn't attracted to me romantically. She felt nothing when I kissed her. Part of this was brutal, just bone jarring brutality that broke up my sailing mood and slammed me into oblivion. Part of this new was horrifyingly funny as well. Once again I had it reiterated to me that I am far too nice. I believe the term she used was 'nauseatingly nice'. I am fanatically subservient in a relationship and much, much worse. I am more than willing to sacrifice my mental health before troubling the people who hurt me most. I would rather be haunted by events, insults, and rudeness before addressing it.

This leads me to another question in regards to my war. When I was suffering in the darkness I would sabotage my personal relationships. I would knowingly hurt people. I would flirt with social disaster for the mere sake of the thrill and wanting everyone to think I was the garbage I constantly felt. The question this knowledge raises is this. Am I being nice by avoiding hurting other people, or am I just indulging in the catastrophic pleasure of emotional self mutilation? Now that I am out of the darkness am I still following the same pattern of behavior but now masking it in the exact opposite way? The mere idea of this question is haunting me. I want to be a good person, I don't believe I could possibly be great, but am I being kind for the wrong reasons?

This week has raised so many more questions, questions that I wish I knew the answers to before I try to rip them painfully from the sky. I am in a psychology class where we constantly skirt over questions of mental illness, should I tell them of my experiences? Of being bipolar and having at least two psychotic breakdowns? I am living with two wonderful friends, and I barely tell them, one of them did not even know I ever battled with mental illness till this past week. Is it my right to keep my war private, or should I do the opposite and tell everyone? Should I be labeled as mentally ill? In a lot of ways I really think I should acknowledge my battle, my war, because I am sick of people thinking being crazy means you are a murderer. That you are a sociopath. That you cut yourself. That you cry all the time. That you must be a brilliant artist. Screw these ignorant preconceptions. I feel like I am a damn good writer, but am I brilliant? I don't think so. I don't think my words are worth more than anyone else's. I am crazy but I hardly wish to hurt anyone. I think if anything on a good day I can out perform and out function a normal more rational person, if such a thing even exists.

I realize I don't think I am ready for a romantic relationship. If anything I want to have more female friends and become close to them. Even if I like them, even if I am wildly attracted to one, I want a relationship filled with so much anticipation and tension it becomes magical. I was writing to one of my pen pals and came upon an idea that I hadn't really thought of, or if I did, I put little stock into it. The idea is this, despite the good nature of all my past relationships I wonder if I did not fall in love as much as I created love. I created love because I am so full of love, so full of passion, and yes even lust, though I try to ignore the part of me who is a mindless hedonist bastard. And, in creating love, am I inevitably dooming all my relationships to failure because created love is not the same as God gifted love. It is not as blessed. I am not saying any of my relationships were bad or not filled with love, I am just wondering if it is the right love. It feels as though, maybe, just maybe, my heart wished loved into existence because it was so full, so ready to explode forth. That is my theory, it is a very rough, rudimentary theory right now, but at least it is another weapon for this war.

I have come to another conclusion regarding love, inevitably God and the war inside me. The biggest failure in my life right now is how I filter love. I love everything so powerfully that I can not handle it. Instead of focusing on my relationship with God and loving through him I love universally which in theory is an alright thing, but in practice? It always fails. Religion I am beginning to think, is needed to handle love appropriately. I tend to ignore the most important relationship, my relationship with God in order to focus on temporary and often failing relationships with people. I need to work on my relationship with God much more if I am actually going to accomplish anything profound with my life, and with all this passion.

Speaking of passion, the appeal of mindless hedonism is haunting me lately. I do not know how to avoid it right now. I am avoiding it, don't get me wrong, for the most part I am avoiding it. Yet this idea I could just find some meaningless, faceless, identity-less person for mindless sex seems amazing and horrifying at the same time. Could I avoid my feelings getting out of hand? Could I hold back my heart from just slamming into a brick wall? Could I avoid 'creating love'? The answer to all of these questions, I already know, is quite simply no I couldn't. Hedonism would destroy me. I don't exist to lead that lifestyle, my heart would simply shred my mind and body. I would self destruct, much like when I was drinking far too much. I know what kind of beast I am, and it most certainly isn't that kind.