Was
Yeah. On the borderline, as on the bipolar depths, I’ve really never experienced the certain notion of suicide as the Exit, though. Not because I worry about being damned in some mythical afterlife! Maybe I thought that I would fail at that Grand Gesture, too, and felt that F&F would titter under Hidden Kerchiefs again and again and again.

Managing our lives. Personally? Okay, I get by with a little help from my friends. I have to say, sometimes, “tell me to shut up” when I’m Riffing Free Jazz from my pie-hole. I have to say, sometimes, “fer christsake, Theodore, if ya don’t see me for a couple of days, call me!” Other folks, too.

I’ve extraordinarily severe aggressive traits and - evil me - I will humiliate anyone who crosses me at times (I’m not a big Facebook user, but I may be closing in on the record for the number of groups that have ‘banned me for life’) but passive? No, not of late. I do have a nice group of phobias, anxieties and aberrant areas of socialization, too, so when I wheel out to meet the Unwashed Masses and Mr. Sunshine I feel some... fear.

Yet, even after being turned into a newt, I’ve gotten better. I have my projects, now, and those help me to... organize(?) the hours in my days.

But I will say that my abandonment issues (real, not merely perceived) have kept me from giving and accepting any real emotional attachment to anyone during the past, hmm, 18 years?

So, yes, I think that you can find fellow travelers here. I believe that one of the Rocky Horrors of mental illnesses can be the feeling, the selfish feeling, that ‘no one knows what I feel.’ No, we might not know your Favorite Snack Treat But we’re just as effed up as you and can open that Big Can of Empathy and we can dine together.

I developed that awful disease
That one gets when greasing one’s knees
It’s rare and it’s queer
I caught it last year