I’m manic. Here’s what to expect:

June 8, 2017
Email to an Online Friend

I’m manic. Here’s what to expect:

You’ll get more bizarre shit in an email than I send to you normally, as if that could happen.

I’ll be up all night, but I won’t be able to channel this mania into something meaningful like organizing my closet. I’ll just be lying in bed while I feel like I’m hanging from the ceiling by my fingernails. Although I may be able to channel it into writing. So this is it. You’re so fucking lucky. Oh, I also have a dirty dirty mouth when I’m manic. Well I do anyway, but it’s worse when I’m manic.

I’ll rehash every breakup I’ve ever experienced and try to figure out what it was I did wrong. Actually scratch that one. Lately I figure it’s the dude’s problem, not mine. If I’m being me and he can’t handle it, that’s his problem. I can’t be with someone that can’t handle me. I’m a handful. When God picks me out a husband, God also needs to give him great strength. And intestinal fortitude. And an excellent sense of humor. And the ability to stand up to me. I could go on and on here, but I’ll save it for later. Because maybe believing I’ll ever get married is delusional.

I’ll text blast current or former lovers. Thankfully, thankfully, most of them still kinda dig me and they are tolerant. They can even sometimes be reassuring. They say nice things like, “Of course you’ll find someone Coco,” and, “You’re a very kind woman, you taught me a lot.” Shit like that. I pick good lovers. For the most part. Except they don’t turn into husbands. But lovers usually don’t turn into husbands. Note to self: Casual sex does not lead to marriage. Must work on that… Must revise strategy.

I will worry about when or if I’ll ever be well. Not well well all the way well, but better than I am now. I’m so very very tired of experiencing every emotion on the entire spectrum of human emotion, sometimes within just a few short hours…