I didn't take my meds today.
Two days ago Caitlin Adams asked if I was bipolar because I was into her on Monday but by Friday I had figured out that she was too demanding.
But those words, that question... it seeped into my soul and tarnished my tho...
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WIND WHIPPED around the wooden walls, I couldn't feel it but I could hear it and somehow that made being tucked up inside all the more cosy.
I lay beneath my blanket, my phones safaris doing a deep dive into the FreeBritney movement when Arlo pulled on the door getting caught in a draught.
I could already sense his nerves, they radiated from him in fumes. His posture was held tense and he kept toying with his lower lip. He glanced over at Lexis bedside table and I knew he was contemplating taking his anti anxiety medication.
"Hey." He said quietly, fidgeting with a lone thread hanging from the pocket of his Levi's. "Can I join you?" He looked at the space next to me and I nodded my head granting him access.
He kicked off his Nike Jordan's and booted them into the corner then climbed in, joining me beneath the covers.
"I'm still mad at you." I pointed out.
"I know, you should be." I clicked my phone locked and placed it on the bedside table. Then I snuggled down, resting my head on the pillow and laying on my side to face him.
He pulled the blankets over our heads, enclosing us inside our safety net then nodded to himself. "So I guess I have some explaining to do?"
Silence fell upon us, he kept trying to say something but the words wouldn't come out. He sucked in a bated breath before exhaling it deeply. "Wow, this is really hard to actually say out loud."
Right in front of me his eyes became glossy, like two shiny maroon marbles twinkling in the light. He dabbed at his under eye with his sleeve and blew out another shaky breath.
"Wow, I'm sorry. I never expected to feel like this, I didn't think it affected me this much."
I knew what he wanted to tell me, his subconscious had already told me against his will. But part of me wanted to hear it from him, awake and sound of mind. He laughed sadly to himself and raspberried out his lips.
"I'm being such a pussy, I'm sorry. I don't think I've ever admitted it before, not to myself, not to anyone but I guess on some level it actually really bothers me." He put his hands over his face, wiping over his eyes and breathed deeply into his hands.
"You don't have to tell me." I caressed his arm and he dropped his hand.
"I do. I want to. I need you to know." He closed his eyes, gave himself a few seconds to regather his strength and when he reopened them he seemed stronger.
"Lola told me that often people who have bipolar disorder are highly sexually active. Puberty triggered my disorder, the worst possible time with hormones flying everywhere, right?"
"I guess."
"I became so hyper focused on not triggering hyper sexuality in myself. I researched like crazy, I took hour long therapy sessions weekly just to talk about my dick. I rubbed one out so many times every day just so that I got it out of my system. I jerked off until I got sore. But in doing that I also developed a phobia; sex."
