Some days I'm okay. I take my medicine when I'm supposed to and I live like a normal person. I put my armor on and attack my life.
Some days I own up to my responsibilities.
Some days I don't have any responsibilities and that's my own fault.
Some days I get things done. I bounce around town running small errands and feel satisfied being productive.
Some days I don't want to be productive. I want to hide in my warm bed. I want to eat badly and spend all my money and write.
Some days I apply for jobs because I'm sick of doing nothing every day. Some days I can't imagine doing any more work than it takes me to do that nothing I do now. Some days it's too much effort just to breathe.
Some days I feel awkward around people and drown that awkwardness in enough beer to vomit on the train.
Some days I vomit for no reason.
Some days I'm okay. Other days I'm not.
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