Dear Billy,

As per my previous verbal communications with you, I would like to raise a formal complaint with yourself, unfortunately I am not apologetic for this and you will find the detailed reasons for my complaint below;

You’re a bullshitter, mate. Quite frankly.

You ain’t big and you ain’t clever, and I’m struggling to actually tolerate you at the moment. I’m angry, I’m really angry that I have spent a couple of months singing your praises, letting the world know how much we were positively getting to know each other. We were doing so well.

So why, Billy, why have you utterly and royally screwed me over the past 10 days. I have not known WHAT THE HELL is going on in my head. You have quite frankly made sure that I feel about as stable as a two legged donkey, and for some reason, have ensured that I am aching, I am hurting, physically and mentally.

You see, I think what you have been doing, hun, is that you have been pulling me into a false sense of security, maybe into a level of hypomania, but you did this subtly, and made sure it felt really good. Just as I was beginning to notice this, you gave me a massive fat “I TOLD YOU SO” and made sure that we took a big old cliff dive into depression. Cheers for that.

I hope you know though, that I am trying to fight back, and part of me is hoping it’s working. I let you in for a couple of days last week, gave you the fucking power you wanted, but the next day, I got up and took the reigns, you resisted a little but eventually got the message. This is how it should be. We have as a consequence, been arguing a bit over the weekend, and my knowledge of your narcissist behaviour is that the battle, this time, is not over.

You’ve really presented yourself at a less than ideal time, to be honest, but I think you’re fully aware of that and are just trying to grab a bit of attention as I and the rest of the world attempt to muddle our way through a fucking GLOBAL PANDEMIC. It’s not about you, BILLY!

You’re causing me pain at the moment, mate. Please stop. And if not for me, for everyone around me. Whilst it is less than pleasant for me, the people around me have absolutely no idea who you are. And you’re not helping yourself on the whole “hey I’m a good egg, hun” vibe. This won’t just cause them to dislike you, because I am aware that we come as a package. Remember that.

You’re really going to screw me over if you do not digest this complaint and quite frankly mate, buck your ideas up, and give me a bloody break.

You’re a twat.

Ok, I’m done now.

(Apologies for the swearing), (actually no, no I’m not sorry).

Regards,

Ellen on the Edge (kisses aren’t appropriate and also, you don’t deserve them)

(For those who haven’t read my previous posts, Billy is the name I have given to my Bipolar 2 diagnosis – I am not really mad at a guy called Billy.. I mean I am mad at him… but… anyway.. you get it.. carry on).