You know what?

I'm just gonna be honest. I don't care, but I do care at the same time. I used to think that it was because I am bipolar, but then that leads me to start thinking about the medicines I take to manage my lows. I know they work, but shit, taking one pill for one thing, and while that pill fixes one thing, it may and most likely will uncover another symptom that you didn't even know you had. Next thing you know, you're on two pills in the morning and five at night just to maintain a struggle to keep your head above water mentality. But back to what I was saying, I care deeply about too much. Before the medicine, I couldn't control it, and since I'm being honest... I'd probably have had plenty of 13th reasons over these past few years. Thanks to the medicine, I care the appropriate amount; well, that and having years of practice under my belt. I don't know why, but I don't wish harm on anyone. Even those who, for no good reason, are jealous of what little I have. I've had people that I grew up with block me on social media because I wouldn't make time for them. Like, really? I'm 41 years old, I have kids and responsibilities, and the fact that you blocked me because I couldn't hang out is beyond me. Just goes to show you that person didn't want what's best for me and didn't wanna see me eat. They just wanted to use me for what I had. Starting to feel like I'm Neo the way I be dodging bullets out here... maybe I'm the one, lol. My daughters are all jealous of each other, and deadass, I bet you I can trace it back and find where to place the blame. That bitch whose name I dare not say. But if you're reading this and you know me, then you know I'm talking about that dirty tennis ball. If I could unleash from my body and put that motherfucker on autopilot and just let it cry out all the pain I hold in, that would be dope. I know if I start to cry, not only am I gonna look more uglier than I am, but I may not come back from where it takes me...