My brain's doing that thing, where it's just running away and I can't keep up and I feel anxious and sad and also kind of elated and excited about stuff. So I thought I'd try to just try and write a stream-of-consciousness thing. So, this is my brain on whatever the hell is wrong with me. Sorry about the wall of text.

I'm super excited cause I've been reading comic books and I love the Young Avengers and why aren't Wiccan and Hulkling in the MCU? Almost out of comics, gonna have to find some fanfic and, oh god, they're so hot! Hot, hot hot! What was I doing? I have shit to do. Need to edit. Need to write. Why am I not writing? I should be writing. I'm a good writer. I think I'm a good writer. I put the words together and I'm good with the words and the grammar and the punctuation, the craft of writing, I'm good at it, but am I a good writer? If I was, wouldn't I be getting more recognition? No good thinking about it. Thinking about it makes me feel like I just want attention, like I'm just some whiny kid screaming, look at me! I'm not some whiny kid. Or maybe I am, and I really just want attention and I don't know it, don't realise it. Why am I thinking all this? Why is my brain so fucked up? Am I hypomanic? Am I having a mixed episode? Am I really bipolar? Maybe I'm not, maybe I'm just lazy and undisciplined, maybe I'm making shit up, maybe none of this is real and I don't deserve all the help and support I've been getting. Am I just making shit up? Is this pretend? Do I just want to be special, as fucked up as all the cool people in the world, the geniuses and the artists. I kind of wanted to be bipolar and not just some sad loser who occasionally got creative. Maybe I made it all up and now I'm living inside my creation and I'm just nothing. Maybe I'm not even trans. I could just be some delusional woman in men's clothing. Maybe I was never a boy at all, never have been, never will be. I certainly don't look like one. I'll never be able to pass, never, not if I don't transition medically, and since I'm so reluctant to do that, surely that has to mean something? Fuck, what even am I? And now I feel all whiny again. No one wants to be around someone like me and, oh my god, did I ever fuck up earlier today when my mouth ran away from my head and I outed my friend's mental illness in front of other friends. God, why would anyone ever want to be near me? I'm such a spaz, I always say the wrong thing and I'm a know-it-all, I'm sure everyone hates me. Like, maybe four or five people on this earth actually like me and the rest are just humouring me. Why am I like this? I don't want to go to bed, don't know if I can sleep, don't want to get up in the morning. Don't want to anything. Want to write. Don't want to write. My mind is going everywhere and it won't shut up and, fuck, I want to get off. Why is my boyfriend asleep? I need to sleep. Not sure how. Can I please just cancel tomorrow and spend the whole day reading comic books? Want more Wiccan and Hulkling, I'm excited about Young Avengers, they're so cute, oh my god! What was I doing? I've got shit to do.