Thank you for reading my posts tonight.

I'm going to sleep now. Merry Christmas. I'm constantly looking for a way out of the constant state of nerve-wracked panic that I'm in. A message to my mother: Don't call me "bipolar," you FREAK.

Yes, I take medication. No, an adjustment to medication won't do it.

In the past, I'd go these Nintendo and My Little Pony events that made me feel so sick. I knew people at them, though.

When I was living at the dorms, it was pretty funky how any time in offices was peace to me because of the quiet. Also, I was living in the middle of my little university island in Newark, New Jersey. I'd only ever be in the middle of Newark, Jersey City, or Manhattan. I felt awful. This guy on the PATH (Port Authority Trans-Hudson) had let me sit down because he saw how awful I was feeling. I got these little acknowledgements all over because everyone could see how awful I was feeling.

That's over with, but the constant state of nerve-wracked panic continues. I feel so ashamed over the things that I do to try to be RID of all of what I feel. Whether it's spending all of my Bitcoin in one night or buying a car knowing what I'm getting into, I can't take this.

I tried resorting to video games. I mean, what do you think most of my purchases have been related to? That's just not working out, though. It's fiction and I prefer the real world. One thing that'd help so much is the ability to drive. Of course, I posted on here plenty about how that's an impossibility until after I leave my family for good.

I guess I could use a friend or something...'cuz my best friend is currently available. She really likes me, but she's caught in her stuff. She's diagnosed with schizophrenia. She's the nicest person.

I COULD pace around my apartment all day, but that's worse than playing video games.

People see what I have and they say "If I had what you have, I'd never want to leave my apartment." Heh. I have what I have because leaving my apartment is difficult and thus, I don't want to feel so awful when I'm in my apartment. If I tell my mother this, she'll say "You WANTED your own place to live." That has nothing to do with the issue at hand, though. Sometimes, she'll ask me "Do you still LIKE your apartment?" What does that even mean?

Today, my mother told me "The psychiatrists were RIGHT about you!" Now that she left, she's apologizing all over, but when she showed up earlier, she flared up in anger a few times. She's such a liar. Of course, after flaring up in anger, she flared down and reached to me for a hug. Like, leave me alone.