A few posts ago, I told of my rehabilitation from the state of depression, and now I'm writing about it again (gee, how many rehabs do I have to go through?). This makes me a candidate for a manic-depressive disorder. I'm a bipolar who is in need of a psychiatrist to save me from this happy-sad cycle. Oh well, at least I never do and never will do drugs.
My love life is now locked in a steel cabinet and stashed at the deepest part of my brain, waiting for deliverance. Ahhh... closure! What is it with you that made me spend so many sleepless nights and oh so many disturbing thoughts? What will it take? Not even Christmas....
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Some positivity:
1. depression does take off a few pounds (which I am now regaining, thanks to the Christmas season!)
2. Skye the master continues to be the smart ass that he is, torturing his yaya once in a while, but a good boy still nevertheless.
3. I can now go out and at the same time mantain my "reformed alcoholic" status.
4. I am beginning to enjoy celibacy.
5. I hope I do get to continue writing my ass off.
Merry Christmas folks! Spread the love.
