Bi-Polar Rantings, Don't be Scared.

Oh God.  I'm in a lull again.   Work doesn't feel right.  Relaxing doesn't feel right.  Sleeping doesn't make me rested.  When I try to talk the words die half way out of my mouth.  I censure my thoughts.  I judge my own conscious.  I feel like crying, and then when I reflect I feel like I should be laughing.  I have no reason to cry.  I only have reason to laugh at my own foolishness.  And at the foolishness I am surrounded by.  Nothing is funnier than unhappiness.  

This farce will never end.  It's all there is.  Nothing comes next.  So when will I stop acting like the next scene is about to start?  When will I stop believing in that valiant ending, where everything is happy and beautiful?  I want to walk through the park when all the swans are sleeping. I want to stroll through a garden of hydrangeas at dusk. I want to watch fireflies blinking over the long grass.  I want those to be the important things in life.  Stillness.  Where the questions disappear.  I'm ready to face the nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

It's time for inertia to settle over my mind.  These emotional displays are tedious, even for myself.  Or more so for myself?  I've gained quite a reputation.  But do I care?  I can't say I do.