Diary / sex


Simply deleting the data off your hard drive doesn’t actually erase it; it basically just hides it from immediate view. To truly erase the data, you need to take much more drastic measures that overwrite your drive space.

The more times you overwrite your data, the less likely it is to be recovered.

Brad Chacos, PCWorld

* * * * *

I find myself thinking a lot of ____ these days. I wrote some passages the other day in a mood of tender melancholy, but when she messaged me soon afterwards asking to be friends, I was overcome with an enormous, irrational rage – the first time I can remember feeling so angry with her. I could say that this was due to what I perceived to be disregard for my request to be left alone forever, but it’s more probable that the time was just ripe for stage 2 of the grieving process. (Anger.)

Anyway, since then I’ve been stewing in a weird, disgusting marinade of feelings that consist of:

– regret, anger (I feel like I’ve wasted so much time)
– confusion (I thought we could work / I never foresaw her to give up so easily and suddenly)
– bitterness, cynicism (Well, of course nothing ever works out for me)
– self-loathing (Why do I seem to be hard-wired in such a way as to keep everyone from loving me?)
– spite (“So what if I can’t have your love, someone else will love me way better”)
– “Tu me manques” (You are missing from me)

* * * * *

A heightened sexuality is extremely common among bipolar individuals. I’ve observed it in myself and the other bipolar people that I personally know.

This doesn’t always manifest in promiscuity. Since I don’t have a partner anymore, this manifests right now with teasing women. Which is very exciting for me.

The other day I dressed and went out with the express purpose of seducing [redacted]. I’ve been sensing some sexual tension in our interactions. Of course, it’s entirely possible that it’s all in my head. Either way, it’s fun. I think it was going well but I chickened out before anything could really happen. Since then I’ve been preoccupying myself with fantasies of what could have happened.

I’m not entirely sure what judgement to make of my own behavior, so I’ll withhold that until / unless something actually does happen.

She looks a lot like [redacted], a fact that I’m not sure is very relevant, but as a result I’ve also been revisiting the dynamic of our relationship. At the time, we were both extremely lonely. I’m still lonely, of course, but much more so then. I’ve only recently begun to accept the fact that unconditional love can [and should] only come with time and many shared experiences. The most exhilarating thing about our relationship was how quickly she seemed to feel unconditional love for me. I suppose I should have been wary of that, but of course I had no idea at all. Neither of us did. Both our families were loose and uninvolved.

Two things come back to me most vividly these days:

1. The smell of her perfume. It was a sharp, distinctive scent that I still smell on other people wearing it sometimes. (Unlike most other perfumes, it carries in the air in such a way that you don’t need to be very close to the person to smell it – or maybe I just have a sensitivity to it.) She was wearing it the first time she kissed me. Smell is the one sense that directly triggers memories without having to pass through the other parts of the brain that process input, so it’s a recollection that’s so intense it can stop me in my tracks.

2. When I had an episode in front of her. I had spent the night, and in the morning I randomly began sobbing uncontrollably. I knew it wasn’t related to anything at all and that it would stop eventually, and I told her so. Even so, she stayed home that day and held me for hours while I cried. I had never felt so unlonely.


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