Manic

I've been in a manic mood lately, more manic than depressed. I can never control these feelings. I'm on my meds but the feelings still there.

I've also been manic eating. I've been like PacMan after the cherries. But then there have been days when I don't eat. My nutritionist hates those days. I'm ambivalent about it. Of course.

I've had a sense of euphoria for some reason. It's like I'm fighting a depression. I don't want to be depressed but my memories keep haunting me. I have too many memories and lately I've been thinking of the bad ones.

I still mourn my sister. She was the best. She was my friend, confidante, mother, everything. We had a blast. She did everything by the book but she had a bad life for a while there. God worked in mysterious ways when he took her from us. She left a void that can never be replaced. I still cry when I think of her like right now. I do have lots of happy memories with her and they always bring a smile to my face. I miss her. I wish she were still around for her girls and her grandchildren.

Then I think of relationships past. I've had some interesting ones. I think about my high school sweetheart, the love of my life, the one that got away, and my two mistakes. There were good memories but also some bad ones. You learn from your mistakes and I made my fair share. If I could I would do things just the same I guess. They made me who I am. And I'm happy with me for some reason. I'm content with where I am.

I do wish I could get in contact with David. He was the love of my life 29 years ago. I still love him and I have actually come across him twice but he doesn't want to communicate with me for some reason. I just emailed him and I know he won't reply.

Then there's Ernie, the one that got away. I fell for him almost immediately. We complemented each other is so many ways. It was like it was made in heaven. We loved each other as friends and it was a small step to really love each other. I'm mad at myself for not being able to talk to him about it.

I even think of Chuck. He was my bad relationship. He swept me off my feet. But then the abuse started and I was not in a good place. He had his sweet moments but they were overshadowed by his bad moods. And he took them out on me...and I let him. I had no choice.

And then there's Steve. He was gonna be my last one. He told me he loved me and I fell for it. He said the right things. When he asked me to move with him I didn't hesitate. He came down one Christmas and I said good-bye to my parents and nieces and left.

We had a nice life together for a few years. Then he got involved with a bunch of losers and that started the nail in the coffin. We had problems and when I broached the subject he said everything was fine. I even left out a couples therapy brochure that he totally ignored. Hey, I saw a problem and wanted to work on it but he said everything was fine. It wasn't.

He cheated on me and never had the cojones to admit to it. I'm not blind. I saw what was going on. I'm not stupid. I know that's how I got HIV. But he's HIV-, go figure. Guess my slut days caught up with me.

So I've been moody. I do have some crying spells. But then I watch Diana's concerts and my spirits are lifted. I listen to Bette Midler's Live at Last cd and I have a smile on my face. I also have Tina Turner and Wham! DVDs to watch. What a faggot.

Oh well, what's a guy to do? Just manage.

Chiflaco out.