Well in a short time I find out if my advanced directive kicks in, because frankly I am so mixed up right now I have no clue. A few days ago I could barely grasp canned soup instructions. The next I am having a thrilling debate with a member about essentially the nature of reality and absolutes for much of the night. At other points I am so angry I feel like murdering certain specific people in cold blood, then my anger evaporates and is replaced with why am I even bothering to be angry? So I become placid and still like a zombie that only wants to play Starbound and not think. Then I feel like taking on the injustices of the world and helping people to a better state of well being and mental strength, writing lengthy things that I rarely finish. Even though the typing stops the content runs without me and I find I just spaced for several hours considering what to write but have now forgotten everything. Only to later feel like everything is impossible and I should just stay in bed and not bother any way. Just sit back eat popcorn and watch the world reap what it sows; maybe hopefully even burn. I go from out right complete dedication to suicidal plotting to the point it is like a dress rehearsal, minus what is required. To what the fuck are you doing life is not overly horrific right now, work on the indie game begins soon now that we have settled on the Unity engine, how exciting! I feel so all over the place I feel like a flickering light bulb, that can't decide if it is going to blow up spectacularly in a shower of glass taking some ones eye out, or fizzle completely into a withered filament that needs a specialist team to replace the bulb. Either way the result is pretty much the same. It is such a tearing pressure in my skull. I can't even decide how I view hospitalisation or not. Hospital means some pretty sweet hardcore go to sleep Adam drugs. Not worrying about the complexities of soup for a while, and seeing my psychiatrist of ten years again who knows me well enough I trust her implicitly. But then there is the curse of people and nurses and rattling keys in the night. Along with my nemesis who makes comments like, 'are you back for your holiday?' Much rather go to the Bahamas you stupid bitch, thanks! If this were a hotel I would complain about tepid showers and unwanted guests and food so bland that I am thinking they ripped the recipes from Nut loaf served in a prison punishment block. That is all right though I am sure a few of the other clients can all chip in and get takeaway and talk about how fucked up everything is and swollen ankles. Nurse Holiday has other powers other than goading me into wanting to see what her nose looks like broken. With such amazing powers as mind reading and xray vision that rivals that of superman as she manages to keep it going for months. She should also get in the business of writing fiction as that is what my fucking notes look like. God I hate her, do your job woman, stop pretending your working. Then there is boredom and groups, groups that make feel like I am four and stupid and stick crayons up my nose. Some groups are kinda good though, art with tremors is not one of them. Non hospitalisation means they have no beds more than likely and I am not quite yet murderous enough and have yet to acquire the means. So its not worth pissing off management by forcing a bed free. It also means crisis team showing up repeatedly engaging in 'No care in the community' Whilst telling me to have a nice cup of tea, as if that will solve this pressure in my head and my hoover becoming some sort of demented shadow thing that wants to eat my soul. Funny that I would be so afraid of that whilst also aware there is no solid evidence of a soul in the first place and that it is psychosis distortions overlayed on a solid object, but the fear is still fear regardless of attempts at logic. I may give them their tea along with all the boiling water in the kettle. Pretty sure that will fast track me to a secure unit and criminal charges. The bonus of staying out is access to more Starbound and truly caring people on this site that will likely tolerate my plummet into the embarrassingly pathetic and unrecognisable. Then when the crisis team finally realise I have already crossed the event horizon it will be too late as I tell them to fuck off. Would you look at that a bed is now available when I don't even want it or even care to try. I grow so weary because these various experiences repeat year after year, starting to think Nurse Holiday should give me some frequent flyer miles so I can actually go to the Bahamas. Its all so tiresome. I can make jokes but the agony of the same shit over and over again... It is like watching myself dying aware the best bits of me are fading and there is nothing I can do about it. Just hope I do not upset too many people and that I come out the other side. Or it ends at last, no more fighting myself, damn I like that idea. No wonder the lifetime suicide rate for Bipolar is so high. How many more air miles before enough is enough... I have packed this suitcase a half a dozen or more times, and it just gets old.