As often as I set fire to myself, 

 

I can’t stand that we set fire to the bridge between us. It’s probably burned beyond repair, but I thought you may still be listening. In the off chance you are, then, hello. 

 

This is where I was coming from—why I was so scared, why I was so angry. 

 

Months ago I was In the hospital because I tried to commit suicide. It was because of the 

medication. It changed me, altered up my thoughts, made me someone I didn’t recognize and 

it was impossible for me to communicate my situation to anyone. Impossible for me to communicate. 

 

I lost myself and the next thing I knew I was in the hospital. 

 

While I was there, I met someone and became intimate with them. It was the first time I had any sexual interaction with anyone since I had been diagnosed as bipolar over a year prior. As soon as I left the hospital I met someone who had just been released from prison. We slept together for a few weeks before I called it quits. I met someone new, the guy who would choke me while we had sex. 

 

Then I met you. You wanted to wait. I slowed down. We laughed, at everything, together. 

 

Of course January hit and flight response set in, as it always does, because of what happened in Florida a few years ago. Midwinter is always a manic time of year for me. I am irrational and grandiose. You may have noticed I got two tattoos over the course of three weeks, I always said I would never get tattoos, and now I have three. 

 

It’s my fault, I know I need to learn how to control my mind. 

 

We were having our problems. I would ask you to cut me a break for being a bad date since I was dealing with all this, but it’s no excuse. It makes sense we would decide to take a step back and evaluate a friendship. A friendship, honestly, I can’t tell you how much would have meant to me. 

 

When you said you needed space I freaked the fuck out. 

 

It hadn’t been since the suicide attempt that I experienced being alone. It absolutely frightened me. What does it look like? What does it feel like? What if it wasn’t the medication that made me do it? What if it was the depression. What if I slip into depression, again. What if I become suicidal, again. What if, what if, what if. 

 

My mind needed to shut the fuck up and calm the fuck down. 

 

I am totally fine. The wave is passing and I’m feeling more grounded. Thank you for forcing me to be alone. I know I don’t have to be, I could distract myself with someone new. But you made me realize I’m looking for more than a distraction— I’m looking for my best friend, my support system, my partner. 

 

Until I find that I will be content with being alone.