So it's been awhile since I've posted. Things have been so hectically crazy here, and I haven't been helping matters. I decided I needed to post again today when it occurred to me that my animals are the only things that keep me living. Some days they provide happiness, others frustration. Either way I feel a distinct drive to care for them daily, even when I don't take care of myself. So I wondered why is that? I don't care enough about myself, I don't care for most other people, so why my animals. Roomates with extra responsibility who don't work or contribute to bills, do cores, or anything else productive. If people treated me this way I'd certainly feel no love for them.

Hhmm, bipolar strikes again. Why is it that it seems much more doable to get yourself in a mess than it does once your tangled up? And, why is it so much less doable in my mind to get myself out of something that I was more than capable of getting myself into?