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I made it. I lasted through about 2 months (approximately,) of class. I can see people’s faces and attitudes changing. They thought I was that excited person that couldn’t wait to learn. The one with the intelligence and eagerness and openness that listens and quickly agrees.
Then they met the demon inside. My eyes flickered and changed. I could see when it happened. I’m not talking about B—–. He could have cared less who I was and what I thought just as long as I could transpond his idea of that his self talk was interesting. I do this for most people. And usually I don’t mind since they give me the time of day to do a little talking myself. He was one of the exceptions. Granted I got his name wrong. I don’t feel that guilty since he never even learned or said my name even though he asked and I told him. Like most selfish asses that think they’re the center of the world and better than other people I am working him out of my mind and anger frequency.
I’m getting sick. It’s no wonder. Hypomania sustained for a month or more will do that to me. This time I will work towards reducing the depressive episode that promises to follow.
It’s hard to work on. I have to force myself to get out and do something. Something social, something outside, something activity related, something opposite isolation. The challenge is right now I am not socially acceptable. I am cruel and ugly and negative and belligerent. And I am in your face. If a room full of Bozo Bop-ems could be made to talk in an intelligent manner I might be able to get through this a little easier. For now I have to grit my teeth and do my best and ignore everyone that soothingly says, “Oh my, you are just fine! You didn’t bother anyone at all.” Liars.

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