I am still happy. Life is being good to me. Of course this won't last long. I'm smart enough to realize that I am just on one of my many high points and that a low one is just around the corner. It doesn't make me appreciate this one any less though. I'm beyond trying to regulate this sickness inside. I'm just going to wallow around in it. Why not? It's so much easier letting me be me. In two weeks or two days or even two years I will be down again. I will think about ending it. I won't do it, but I'll think about it. I will obsess about every little thing. I will be very irritating to be around, a bitch. This will happen. It's a pattern. And just when I think I can take no more I will wake up on top of the world again. And this is me. There's no changing it and I don't think I want to really. This feeds me. Other people are addicted to drugs or alcohol or sex. My vice is a little more secret and I love it. I don't have to spend money to get that heady, disconnected feeling. While I know its wrong to go on like this, I also know I won't stop. There's comfort in stablility.