PTSD and other Devils

I hate how little it takes to set me off. I've worked for years on being able to control my emotions - with little success. The closest I ever get to control is bottling them up or hiding away from my triggers... neither is anything but a quick fix and a surefire way to wind up back at step 1. Between being BiPolar, depressed, and suffering from Anxiety and PTSD I'm not sure I'll ever be able to function properly in society - and that really sucks. Nothing ever really works. I just want to be happy, but lets face it - that will never happen. How it is possible for them to be so close & not know I'm having a meltdown in the next room makes no sense to me. It just doesn't make SENSE! What the FUCK kind of society, place, HELL is this that people can be so obtuse?! What the HELL type of place is it where people can treat others like something they stepped in and Get Away With It?! I just want to scream at the top of my lungs until it's all okay - but I can't. Not even into a pillow, which used to be therapeutic for me in the past. Not here, anyways. He's a bastard. And to hell with being nice about it. I can't breathe, I'm fighting off a damned anxiety attack, and I've been crying for 34 minutes and counting! So why bother anymore? Nothing I do really matters anyway. No one really gives a damn. No one here, that is. I swear if it weren't for Scythe & Robot I'd be in full panic mode right now. I love those two. Screw mom's rules, next tattoos I'm getting is gonna be (aside from my cover up) my guardian reaper with Scythe's name on it like I planned. And I'll figure out something for Robot. I'm trying so hard to get out of this funk - but it still hurts to breathe... 37 minutes, but I've finally stopped crying. Even if this is the most trouble I've ever had Blogging my feelings... Fuck It All, Al.