I wish I wasn't bipolar. It's just on par with socially unacceptable mental disorders that make you undateable. As if that's all I care about? Or is it what I really want. It's the thing that made me bipolar. Desire. Depression or anxiety these days is "socially acceptable," and people understand and relate, but with bipolar, no, you're just anathema. You're actually crazy. Not just mentally ill. Is this where I actually acknowledge that the drive to be as hot as possible is to make myself more acceptable? Because hot crazy people are more likable. I wish I didn't care. Oh to actually know what I am meant to be in heaven! What on earth or heaven will my job be? I will have limitless energy and intelligence and creativity. I'm sure it won't be writing. It will probably resemble writing. It will look like building puzzles and riddles about celestial affairs—the celestial condition, no longer the painful human condition. I will not give up what Jesus promised in His Kingdom with new, glorified bodies, with sixth, seventh, eighth, to the nth senses and superpowers, just for a measly taste of an unsatisfactory thing, a heartache wanting absolution and healing and union, a sin. I will see God for myself, and I will worship and recognize the Maker of souls. When I think about it, how in any reality can something so dazzling and impossible just be? I am as awestruck with fear and amazement and admiration. A Being that has had eons of time to think and act and move, all in mystery and proportion unknowable and unfathomable, a Being such as that had thought about me, someone so sinful and wretched, and imperfect, and decided that it was worth it to experience my reality and break all laws of nature to come down to Earth. Just so that the LORD will see His righteousness instead. He has covered me, covered for me, clothed me in my shame, though I deserved none of it. Why should I be so sad? --- Further, why would they go through all that trouble to put or inject these writings that are so clearly not mine into my computer??? I remember so well that I am not the author of some of those things. WHY? Look at Jan 16 whenever you feel the unbearable need to die. --- I can't quite capture in words the excitement that it was to anticipate the start of SportsFest in Bonbon. It was a different kind of happy. One that I wish I could still experience. I can hear the music blaring. The teams training and being healthily competitive. It makes me think of Hogwarts houses. 4 teams fighting to be the champion in three days. I can't remember the last time I was part of something so great and grand. It's a shame there isn't any of this sort of competition or team spirit-filled air in UP. Watching basketball games doesn't count. I wish to buy food from the vendors and food stalls that they hired for that day, even though it was all Dunkin' or some other fast food. I've never been to a UP Fair, although now I don't know who I could go with. Going alone would probably be miserable. --- And so, falling in love with circumstances is never going to end well. How could you fall in love with a random arrangement? That is not a living person. That is not an active agent, who supposedly is supposed to pursue you. Just because you are in the presence of someone doesn't make them special.