I haven't been home in a week, and was a bit surprised when the mild feeling of homesickness creeped up on me. And furthermore, I was completely caught off guard when it prevented me from working properly today and partying like the riot I really am (ahaha). But here I am now, back in my stinky room, with many bags of dirty laundry, and my orchid plant slouching courtesy of my neglect. Hmm, what else?... I've been a lot happier ever since I was diagnosed with bipolar II. I guess a diagnosis was needed in order to get some closure, now I feel I can finally move on and work on it. I've been making some impressive progress in therapy, as well. The sessions have developed from pointless whining on my part and useless notes she adds to my chart to psychoanalysis and more interesting discussions about my abnormal state of mind. I've been taking my medication seriously, too. I've stopped drinking entirely, and take them every night, instead of taking them only when I'm consuming ridiculous amounts of alcohol. That's it I guess, I could brag all day about how well everything is going, but don't want to jinx it.