listography: notes (everyday is something different)

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Julianna

notes (everyday is something different)

My room smells like a candy-shop, full of enticing sweets no one can eat unless you like a mouthful of soap.
- most of us probably need just that, what with our dirty words that slither off our tongues to jump from our lips. Water moccasins that's what I like to call them.
It's true though how we can sink ships. I can't stand the salt. Just a few shakes and it's enough anymore and it burns my lungs, my skin. I take the sweetness with all its consequences that's how I like it.
- Ask me and I will tell you any day of the week, "I still like the scent because it's so sweet."
This is how it all started.
Mustering the stamina to tear off a chunk from the baguette, than slicing it (which takes even more of an effort). I do so on an open cookbook that my stomach will never see the buttery contents of.
Afterwards, it is peanut butter, organic of course, during those days you kind of/sort of/possibly/want to live but don't.
- I never question my actions since it has become second nature.
- One day I will awake as happy. Happy as a clam as the saying goes and than it'll turn into soup, not the creamy kind laced with heavy milk but the watery, diluted consistency of clear broth you're force fed when distraught with sickness.
Still, I get up, I move on, I feel slightly better. My head's not as clear as it was. I don't think of the monsters.
They're a strange sort of beast but I let them live inside me. Sometimes they are a comfort other times just demons disguised as bunny rabbits with fluffy white tails or baby pink unicorns with teeth as sharp as knives.
- Either way, I love them, every bit of each one because without them I wouldn't be me.
I stick to schedules as much as possible on down days. I try to get in exercise at the same sluggish rate of hydration and sustenance.
- Mostly I liter computer screens with reblogged images and status updates.
- I've grown fond of twitter, the easier, more sensible micro-journaling for those with lengthy fragments for paragraphs and shams of a life.
It's nice to think I have one, a life that is. Sometimes I even believe my life is ok.
"That's what makes you so strong," everyone tells me, like that is such a comfort. The truth is when knocked down, I get back up, and keep fighting.
- my teeth gritted
- my mouth dry
- my finger nails dug into my skin
it's a fun kind of living, spontaneous. No one knows what I will do next. Normally, than I grip to my kaiju, in particular the baby-pink uni's and say to them,
- 'go ahead you've waited long enough,'
- and they devour my emotions post haste,
- willingly.
they're all so very famished you see. What with the control I've since acquired of my own self. so I try to be as loving as possible and let them do what they wish.
- I feel guilty really since they're kind of stuck.
The second day comes begrudgingly but I feel more like myself for how long that will last God only knows.
- It is my birthday
- There are a few plans.
- A movie and makeup-a-go-go.
Those thoughts are inspiring. I latch on to the frivolous materials that will cause maybe a few hours or 10 seconds of happiness.
- afterward the guilt will set in
- the undeniable empty.
- and I wonder why I cling to it all?
but anything is better than head to pillow, body to bed and that's a hopeful kind of thinking at least.
- The majority is from birthday cards that came days before.
- to be quite frank, it was 1 birthday card.
Apparently, my sister may also be out of her head as it was signed "Love Rory" whom is my niece.
- I have to say I've never had such a rich little niece.
- Perhaps, she'll spare a few dollars in the next few years of my life.
- More importantly, I love her for her not the money.
I've contemplating since last night's 4AM insomnia about orange-red lipstick. If I should or shouldn't purchase such a flamboyant color.
- I'll probably look like a clown.
- but do I care really?
- not at all.
Apparently, I do care to some extent. I listened to sound advice on the color and opted not too with a little too much reservation.
- It's the 3rd day in the middle of the month
- but it's not the 3rd day.
- that familiar low-feeling has sunk in
I have no closure in my life. I'm starting to believe I will never have closure with any thing even whilst others move happily on.
- I shouldn't care but I do.
- I shouldn't say shouldn't but I do.
- I shouldn't be jealous but I am.
I miss being able to numb out even when others trampled a top me, dancing about on my heart and rib cage. It felt good almost to feel nothing.
- and to know nothing will come.
  - I fill the void with things.
  - while others fill it with Jesus.
  - He's there I assure you
  - I just never summon Him up.
What's God? The world asks that a lot but never answers the question. They curse him, yes. They denounce him, even more. They say they don't owe him and that he's done nothing but I say
- What have I done?
- I don't have a book with my name in it
- Or mouthes that take my name in vain.
I am not legend or story or fairytale. I am just some young woman that's mildly screwed up, mostly by her own doing. It's not a Him thing but rather a me thing.
- Why place blame on someone I can't look in the eye?
- It's because we live in a world full of cowards.
- and we can never admit that it's us not them or her or him.
  - because if we did we'd feel like shit.
  - how sad that is.
I'm sure if someone ever did read this they'd say I'm disordered which I am. My illogical exerts come from observation.
- cynical but well deserved
- trite but overly critical
- redundant but naive.
The one good thing about this country is I'm free to say it even though that is not necessarily true.
- I could be shot
- I could be jailed
- I could be outcast
  - but I can say it.
Freedom is never really freedom. It's free to an extent but with restrictions because if we were truly free to do as we please we'd run a muck and the world would be convoluted.
- we are already torturously involved.
  - so it's best we have flags and ribbons.
  - a race for this and that.
  - order is well and good.
  - It's at least a console.
but today ends tragic on this, May 16th, the day after my birthday my brother in law in shock trauma.
- he's lost something he cannot get back.
- lives are precious,
- guard them well.
all that's left for us to do now is wait but waiting it out is the most excruciating. Again, another instance where a person would blame God but I blame what caused this.
- He being -him- an actual man
- cause my pain.
- a vehicle being an actual thing
- cause his pain.
  - and due to all of them
  - it's caused us all agony.
  - so don't blame God for the world's doing.
So, it turns out it's nothing. Literally, nill. I suppose coping in my family isn't all there. 1 finger became 1 and 1/2 and than 2 fingers lost.
- In reality as the night lingered on
- it was a small piece
- still attached to his pinky finger.
I'm letting this be a lesson to process before reacting. I am glad he is ok though and I suppose prayers really do work but my sister is still a zombie.
- brainwashed by him
- and his words and actions.
- he's always been abusive in that sense
  - but she thinks it's ok.
  - what's even worse is she's a counselor
Brainwashed or just simply insane it does not matter. What I realize is I need to move on with my own type of living. Again, I will say I am thankful all is well and all right with her husband.
- but it doesn't erase the hate he has
- for me and my family.
- or the hate he's put in my sister
  - or maybe she's just always had the hate inside of her.
Day 4 and I'm tired, wondering, whether or not I really need my nutritionist. There was a time when I did and I was anorexic as a toothpick.
- now that I'm fatter
- like the prized cow Lulubelle
- I feel like I really don't need it.
I stuff my face like a good little soldier as if everyday I'm at war with the new roll and great bulge.
- 10lbs heavier
- no more 112lbs
- I can't get any bigger.
  - at least I pray to God I won't ever get any larger than this.
even my words seem as lackadaisical as my body. It sucks to be teen-cliche but I can't stop. I've tried but it only lasts a few days.
- willpower maybe
- I am unsure.
- either way it's a step forward I guess.
On a random and seemingly odd note, I love Benefit blushes and on this day one came via the mail.
- because I'm a homebody.
- a shut in.
- a good little hermit crab.
Dandelion...pink dandelion. Perhaps, a new kaiju will bloom in me today as well!
- The next day,
- the fifth day,
- I have risen.
Not from the dead. I'm by no means Jesus but I'm rather happy with my mood resurrection. I feel good in a good way for lack of better adjectives.
- last night I read from my
- obligatory fandom.
  - I did not cry
  - like some fans did
  - but I was elated.
The Hunger Games trilogy I can not put to rest. Glad for it's ending and how ravenous I was to forge on in reading every book.
- I was so wrapped up in it
- it took a while for me to fall asleep
- which isn't a new thing.
I normally do not fall asleep for a bit due to other horrific reasons that I wish not to divulge.
- still that doesn't mean what traditionally
- keeps me wired
- didn't come at another time during the night.
It did but I swatted it away like a fly. Trampled on it's head like I was Mary the Virgin Mother crushing satan the snake.
- I am stronger I guess.
- or delusional
- I think perhaps both.
  - either way I am happy
  - and it's been quite some time since I have been.
I think I forgot about today. Day 6. Sometimes this happens. My throat currently feels like a balloon has inhabited it. I force down water thinking maybe that'll help it.
- it doesn't but I know it's not
- anaphylactics
- that word makes me wanna vomit.
I try never to use it, only if I have too. I have to say it was a pretty good start off to the 6th day.
- we went to fells point
- I got lots of music
- I owe a great debt to my sister
  - but she loves me a lot so
  - it's a 'whenever' kind of thing.
I'll pay her though because I hate owing people and I'll pay her because she deserves to get her money back.
- sometimes I have the shittiest ideas.
- I feel like I'm being used
- to write to the other equally desperate
  - I can write well I guess but I don't get anything for it.
  - I guess they think helping others is my fulfillment.
I don't know. I'm selfish I guess but I still feel what I feel and I feel like I'm being used to do someone else's job.
- it's always like that though.
- send the unemployed to do it
- because...they'll do anything since
  - they're desperate.
  - well, think again.
It's a good thing I can count. Day 7. I have this thing with 7s like most I think they're lucky when really they're just a fancy looking upside down L.
- I feel cold.
- My skin is prickling.
- out of the corner of my eye I see my coffee cup.
full with hot liquid that may or may not warm me. I want to sleep or at least somehow return back to it. My stomach is full from breakfast. My eyes are watering.
- I think I need an escape.
I think the days are coming too slow. Day 8 comes with glacier consistency. It down poured most of last night which turned my restlessness into listlessness. Every drop that plummeted out of the sky woke me up by its force.
- I know that sounds foolish.
- how much weight does a raindrop carry?
- not much but still
  - when they race towards earth
  - they crash as loud as a wave.
I've drunk 2 cups of coffee, each heavily milked and caffeinated. I would've said sugared but I've given up the stuff.
- It's Splenda 7 days out of the week.
- the 0calorie sweetner for almost-recovered anorexics.
We sent out 'get well' cards to my brother in law. The one with now a very small little finger. There's not much to put in them other than 'praying' or 'thinking of you'.
- I mean what do you say to someone
- who in actuality
- won't ever recover
Its not as if his sliced and diced finger will ever grow back. I don't know. I think about those things sometimes. Nevertheless, it's a kindness.
- Last night I dreamt about more oddities.
- that took the form of Kaiju,
- rather demonic kaiju
- that frightened me to the core.
My mother was a God as well as 3 others and they all fought for God-knows-what. This one male God tortured everyone, including my Godlike mother.
- I didn't know what to do.
- but I had to protect her.
- the war between Gods wore on
- until I awoke
Startled and still in a dreamlike state. My room took on the insanity of a city masked as a cartoon world, whilst I tried to settle my brain back to normalcy.
- Beneath me my piglet kaiju was smashed by my arm.
- I dismantled him and clung to it.
- till my senses returned.
the dream was so vivid even while I write this it haunts me. Such a silly dream that caused a stir in my mental and physical body. Perhaps, this is what it's truly like to be insane.
- I hope that at least if I am
- going bonkers
- I won't be as terrified as I was
- this morning.
  - but rather accept it all.
  - I'd ask God but Mom help me.
I'm pretty sure I'm buzzed. If this is what 'buzzed' feels like. My entire body feels jittery and my mind's a jumble. Nothing feels quite as scary as the time I overdosed.
- it was like the world fell away
- and all I wanted was sleep.
- words would form in my head
- than come out my mouth.
  - and I couldn't remember a damn thing I said.
It wasn't relaxing but chilling. I felt like I'd never return to my body again. This isn't as alarming what with the 5 cups of caffeine I've downed into my system.
- I don't like the feeling.
- my computer screen seems too bright.
- I can't even focus on the blare of the television.
- but I can tell it's too loud.
I am like a mixed jurisdiction. I need someone to pull me from the wretched muck of my brain and dastardly body-state.
- my mind spins
- my body twitches
- I think I over did it this time.
I exercised earlier in the afternoon. High intensity kind of training, for what? I don't know. I won't be running any races or accomplishing a 50 second sprint.
- after I got off I felt shaky
- like my body was finally surrendering
- to the poor care I've given it.
Though this past month I've been told I've been doing well. My family says, 'it's the best I've ever been,' I look good, healthy even.
- my cheeks have color
- my face isn't sunken in
- I can fit into clothes that have literal sizes.
many still in the disorderly world of eating disorders would shake their heads at my antics of wanting to be healthy whilst the semi-recover say, 'go you,' well, bless me.
- I am tired.
- perhaps sleep will help me.
- I feel greasy for some reason.
  - like I need to shower and clean myself.
  - though internally I know
  - nothing will ever get me clean.
Just chugged 3 16fl oz bottles of water to rid my body of the caf. I also devoured the remainder of soft pretzel bits my mother brought home from the mall.
- I feel like a guy on marijuana, having a case of the spins and munchies. Perhaps the carbs will help to fend off the new kaiju. Caffe, is what I call him.
- he's new to the brand
- literally, my 'inner circle'
- with MonBon & Cornius
  - the bunny-tail and magical unicorn.
I think I've finally lost it but I am starting to come to my senses. I shoveled in forkful after forkful of rice mixture, smothered with cheese.
- This will help Ana to stay in her corner
- and maybe help Caffe to go far away.
  - Tomorrow will be better, I hope.
The 9th day comes with a glimmer of something. I'd call it hope but that would be sort of cheesy, not like the majority of these sentiments are not. I feel happy. I'll leave it at that.
- Tired though
- but empowered
- therapy went well without the unholy ghost.
When I say 'unholy ghost' I mean him. He invades my mind like a nasty 5th grader, pushing Sue off the monkey bars, telling her, 'I'm first.'
- do fifth graders still play?
- on legit playgrounds?
- what a thought!
- I sure hope they do.
anyways, he didn't lay claim to 'his property' like he did in January. Pulling out the duck and male ladyfingers. I use these terms now because I'm sick of saying the more perverse.
- He knows what he did.
- I recall him doing it.
- I said, NO.
- Protesting over and over
  - but he acted as if I needed it.
May God find a special place in hades for you but yes, other than that small stint, my recovery is coming along nicely.
- at least I hope it is.
I'm just a drip, another leak in the faucet when the rain bangs on the rooftop above my head. I've been restless, must be day 10.
- he mutilates me
- from the inside
- still does his business
- like a glorified pro.
my shoes off as well as my jeans. The hair on my legs itch like nothing else. I'd coin the term 'itch like a bitch' but that doesn't make sense. I itch because my skin's gone shriveled and dry.
- I see the follicles build up with white dust.
- my own brand of crack.
- the cocaine of my skin
- that I scratch, scratch, scratch.
I'm not a drug addict. So, you can breathe a sigh of relief. If I were one I wouldn't be this coherent. Sometimes I do things to feel it again and it's him making me feel it.
- you like this.
- pressure
- god, you're so (it rhymes with pet)
- did you umm? Did I?
- I don't know.
I was in a corner wondering when I'd be safe again. If my home was still safe. Or if I was still. I don't know now if I should call myself a virgin.
- he didn't use his duck but
- he used his chicken tenders
- licked them too
  - the thought makes me vomit.
I had to stop for a moment to continue my scratching. If my mother were home she'd tell me to stop. 'I'll make marks' or 'I'll bleed' maybe that is what I want.
- I'd like to shut off.
- like my computer screen does
- it's a good magic trick.
- I guess that's why so many drink and do drugs.
  - temporary relief.
the bandaid effect. I get it though. so I can't blame them. Most of the world induces their own comas and they blame it on the world rather then ourselves.
- I am responsible for my actions
- and delayed reactions
I won't ever get clean will I? I won't ever know what it feels like to be me again. Was there ever a me to come back too? All I recall is a shell.
- with no pearl or girl
- to speak of.
I'm on my wood floor typing rather than my bed. I don't want to soil my comforter with sin. I thought like this during those months I kept the dirty secret in me.
- I didn't want to tarnish something
- that did not deserved to be tarnished.
  - now, do I deserve it?
I'm scratching still. You can't tell though now that I've told you, you can. I can feel it. I'm getting deeper under my skin. I somehow think I hold the answers.
- I don't know if I do though.
- people tell me I can write
- but I cannot
- I told my mother of this and we talked.
  - just jibberish, you know.
  - like a wonderland mish match.
My mother said, 'that's good, it's therapeutic'

but maybe 'you should try writing a children's story.' I wouldn't know how to begin.

I could tell them about my kaiju
how they live inside me
- and daily they feed off my life
- they are beautiful creatures
- but they'd think I'd gone mad..

Caffe and MonBon they fight over muffins & crumpets. They urge me to 'chuck them all away' ...what's gone bad has spoiled and all that.
- I agree to an extent though
- they eat anyway.
  - I'm unsure how to silence
  - my world.
  - but I keep scratching
  - hoping for a pearl.
  - It's raining again...like a china set sea.
- my skin reverberates against my nails.
- 'hurry' MonBon says. 'Today we set sail!'
  - on an ocean of motion and cells.
Day 11 is lazy like myself whom is still in her night gown (are they still called that) with disheveled hair and AM face.
- I feel torpid.
- ever since I've gone jobless,
- unemployed..whatever one calls it.
God. It's alarming the rate it takes me to do things throughout a day. I mostly lie on my stomach and click, click, click.
- like my life depends on it.
  - I'm not sure if it does.
I suppose sloth has consumed me. One of the 7 deadliest sins. My eating disorder hasn't even hollered at me too 'get off your fat rear and move'
- on a side note
- I keep getting random calls on my cell.
- from 813 or 360 numbers.
It's strange. Sort of feels like a set up. Will she answer or will she not? If she does, what then? I don't know. My mind thinks like this.
- as you're already aware.
- I can feel t he scum of my dry skin
- shed in-between my finger nails
  - wretched
  - gross
  - like most things.
I need to go and exercise the filth out of me. So I will not collect it. My skin still smells like lemony flutter. My favorite LUSH butter.
- Yes, I rhymed.
- Very much well aware.
  - for pity's sake I need to go already.
I did it. The exercising of incline and resistance. I still feel like a sprout on the end of a potato. I also tried to make myself look
- presentable.
- it's not possible.
- not at all.
I put on some concealer, blush, a little eye shadow and I still look like garbage...the ugly kind. God, I wish I was beautiful.
- I wonder what that would be like.
  - to look in the mirror and
  - not look horrible.
- to wake up and see
- the literal sleeping beauty.
  - fuck.
  - that'll never happen.
Day 12 out from hell. Last night I hit sub-zero (below the basement) where the kids are kept quiet and the snakes slither 'round out feet.
- In other words.
- I was depressed,
- suicidal
- I thought about calling it quits.
Since I am a very planned person, much like my last suicidal happening I decided to write a note via my word processor. I never much liked hand-written suicide notes. They're kind of cheesy.
- I also think it's easier
- for loved ones
- if there really isn't
- anything left for them to hold onto.
it helps in the healing process or so I think it does. When the last bit of human contact is nill. I started sobbing which is a horrible act to see.
- I'm like a wounded animal
- even when I cry I'm not loud
- Just silent.
- like an inch worm, spinning silk on it's string.
there is something so wrong with me as a person. That or 'lady proper' really kicked me in the bottom with her plights of 'femininity'.
- I don't know.
- I really do not want to be
- portrayed as a flower
- I'm more like a weed.
I grow and no one knows how to get rid of me. It's like a festering disease. Well, I guess not that ghastly but you know what I mean or maybe you don't.
- Anyway
- I'm getting off subject.
- One who tries to end their life
- does this a lot
I ramble as a means to not talk about how I was feeling. I try to make as little eye contact as possible because beneath all those pretty words is a big secret.
- I won't ever see you again.
- and I don't know how to say good-bye
I did this a lot yesterday with my nutritionist. I cried a little and than went back to 'stone'. I didn't know what to say or do. I was muck.
- but I made it through!
- I didn't get to say what I wanted.
- but I did see her
- which is enough for me.
It's too hard saying goodbye. I know this because I'm a vacillator. I can't find the words so I just act well. I make promises of 'yes, I'll keep going' when I really have no plans too.
- She smiles
- She laughs
- and I'm really happy.
- I like how she looks and the sound of her laughter.
It comforts me knowing this is the best way to say goodbye but later, when it got down to my planning all I did was write a letter.
- Though I turned out the light
- laid stark-still in the darkness
- called for God at least 6 times
- before saying,
  - you're not coming to get me are you?
I kept thinking about the clip she gave me. How I would return it to her. My family might throw it out not knowing or keep it thinking it was something of mine when it wasn't.
- that's what started my return to the living
- though I am still planning today.
- you can't stop planners
- it's just what we do.
  - in case of emergencies.
So, here I am. Alive. I know that sounds so disheartening. Where is the tragic demise of character? Maybe someday or perhaps never. I don't know.
- When the mood strikes though
- I will tell you.
  - and I will say goodbye
  - the only way I know how too.
I've realized that sometimes it's ok not to have a happy ending. Nothing in life is perfect. I'm far from it which is seemingly apparent. My father's home, outside cutting the grass.
- My sister's downstairs.
- no one has checked on me.
  - I've had ample time to do it.
  - to slit my wrists,
  - strangle myself with extension cords,
  - take copious amounts of advil or
  - benzodiazepines
So the question here is: WHY haven't I? Is it because I am waiting for someone to find me or that I want to live? I don't know.
- I'd be long dead though
- since no one checks on me
  - I guess that means they trust me.
Maybe that's a good thing. I don't think I'd get up and tell anyone what I did this time. They'll just find me dead.
- it's better that way.
- less of a mess to clean.
- my mind keeps thinking
  - what should I? What should I do?
I'm not going to eat lunch even though it's almost 12:30pm. I'm not going to eat period today. I'm still in my night clothes.
- I guess that means something.
- My sister just came in
  - checked on me after 3 hours.
  - must mean my trust is slipping.
I don't think I can strangle myself. I tried double wrapping the cords around my neck and shutting off air supply. Didn't work out.
Even though I have various means too and it would be much simpler than trying to find pills to swallow without someone seeing.
- I have 3 benzos in my purse.
- that's not enough.
- I instead got up and exercised.
  - I found blood in my underwear.
  - the dreaded monthly.
So, I put on a pad and pushed myself up the hill I call level 10 incline on the treadmill as well as cycled on a 6% resistance.
- this was all done
- on an empty stomach
  - aside from the oatmeal I had earlier.
I ruminated afterward. Whether to eat or not eat. I know I should but I'm not hungry and I really don't care.
- I settled on a banana
- and bottled water.
  - that's enough.
  - though Bobbi would tell me otherwise.
I'm just tired. I don't feel anymore. I don't eve hunger except for those times when I stuff myself like crazy.
- I don't want to be a turkey
- nor wishbone.
  - I just want to disappear.
Can I even make it 30 days? And if I do what will I have accomplished? Aside from this rhetoric of an unstable girl. I'd say woman but there is much debate of if I am.
- My family thinks I'm 11.
- I sometimes feel just so.
- My therapists say I am 27.
- I sometimes feel just so.
  - I don't know.
I won't dispute my acting childish. Maybe I am selfish in that sense. I've been cast into a world full of grown up problems with foolish adults. So, how can one not act anything but the wrong age?
- if I squeeze my eyes shut
- just long enough to feel the tension
- everything almost feels real.
  - you see I live in a surreal sort of state
  - between living, existing, and ending.
I still haven't chosen which I want. It's a little like deciding on your favorite color. If you choose yellow automatically everyone thinks piss is all you want out of life or if you choose blue you're the jackass of every joke, even pink.
- Yes.
- girly
- young
- Pink.
If you like pink you're doomed. An idiot to begin with. Pink is for babies not adults. Pink is the collection of preteen victoria secret undergarments that parade on the backsides of young girls.
- Pink is
- the new kind of slut.
  - it's also my favorite color.
  - that's why I got muzzled and mucked up.
I revile the language of ducks, chicken tenders, and pussycats, I speak it like a moderate pro now. He'd be pleased while he twiddles his thumbs waiting. I'd ask him:
- What are you waiting for?
- Something.
- Something or?
- Someone...if I'm lucky. Just gotta wait.
and he'll wait. I know he will before pouncing. I don't really care. I mean I do but I can't stop it. I'm just one dizzy young lady ready to jump if threatened. I ask God sometimes:
- God.
- God..
- God...
  - He doesn't answer but I get why though.
  - He's waiting as well.
Day 13. I guess not so unlucky. I can't tell. I went out to the odd places people venture on 'errands' like grocery markets and music stores that blast Bon Jovi, the happening wait in the car yard sale.
- It was all right.
- I was ok
- I don't know.
- I'm not sure.
  - I'm here so that's something.
I feel like a beached whale. That my belly has ballooned. I've eaten far too much today. Good thing is I still haven't exercised. So, maybe I can burn off a few calories.
- Not nearly enough to make a dent in my thigh dimples.
  - but I can hope.
It's sunny outside. Almost 4pm. That's a little cryptic, like I'm a policeman or something. A stalker, perhaps? I wouldn't know whom I'm waiting for.
- I'm not making sense.
- could mean that's a good thought process.
- I'm a little incoherent.
  - I place water bottles on my head.
  - and laugh like a drunkard.
  - I suppose I'll say I am.
  - though I really am sober.
I got an email today in regards to weight. I wanted to maintain whatever it is that I am or just have it capped off.
- Apparently that's not something
- She can do.
Maybe it's only for those with 'weighty' issues. I am literally the fattest wannabe anorexic there is.
- Oh well.
- Nothing I can do ( or I guess I can do)
  - I'll cut this short,
  - I'd say brief but yeah, that's a dodgy topic.
- No, tears from me.
- My body's crying enough with 90 degree sweat as it is.
  - Oh fuck it.
  - Lord knows when I type I can't keep shut up.
I've got a tickle in my throat. Day 14. I keep coughing like my life depends on it and every time I do my monthly friend spurts out of me.
- I am pretty grotesque.
- cough,
- spurt
- cough again.
I don't really care anymore at this moment. I've been trying to get all the people I've met out of my head. I am finding it difficult. I keep thinking if I push away more often it'll help.
- it hasn't.
- I've opted for better means
- the lock and key strategy
  - in a box, locked up, tossed key, thrown.
Maybe then my subconscious will get it. Doubtful. I cannot depend on outside supports because they're not there and they are not mine to claim.
- The more I use them
- I become the taker
- I'm a giver so
- logically I'm the one
- whom they should be taking from.
It makes sense somewhat. I'm just trying not to care. It makes things easier when you're selfish and unfeeling. I believe every one has the capacity to do just that.
- I'm going to be bussiness-like
- with my nutritionist.
- I eat far more than any person should
  - and I've continued to do so.
  - Cut me some slack and trust that
if I royally screw this up it's on my own sans the copayment. This is how we all make a living or ending of ourselves.
- Day 15, it's getting pretty close.
Apparently, people get a sense of abandonment from me. I don't have issues with it. I could legit, careless.
- I don't want to talk
- so I will type it out.
- not like that'll shake it from my skin.
I feel like a bloated fish out of water, flapping in the sand. I can't stand the lawnmower outside with its droning nag.
- My body's in revolt
- with my head
- the reaction my flesh has
- is pimples and sebum.
A coat of physiological meaning has grown upon me. I guess that's a good thing, means I can go maybe 1 more day without showering.
- I wish my head was empty.
I wish people would stop psychoanalysing my thoughts and actions. I'm not a textbook. You cannot learn anything from me or figure out what it is that makes me tick.
- I am so tired of this dereplication.
- there are no pills
- no magical solutions
The drugs you make, make fools of us all and most especially you whom prescribe them. They claim to have seen 'so much good' come out of the person but it's not true.
- I've seen it too.
- heard it
- read it
  - a few years later they do it.
  - commit suicide.
and those meds what were they but bombs ready to explode from the inside out. You cannot undo what's been done. No one and nothing can. Unless you get a good case of amnesia.
- That won't happen without
- a good hit.
- which is hard to find.
- you know what I mean
- I'm sure you do.
- all that might get this.
- at least I hope.
I met a new kaiju today. She's a dragon snake. You might wonder how such a thing occurs. You see she's small enough to look harmless there in your garden but evil enough to do a good deal of harm. I've called her Lis.
- I speak to her sometimes.
- I ask her a few questions.
  - she never answers though.
  - I become frustrated
  - but she snickers or rather hisses.
  - spraying fire on me and singing,
    - I've told you so.
Day 16, didn't happen. It's a mystery. So, onto
- Day 17
It's not so much an enigma. I had therapy both retail and mental. Usually, after sessions like that I need a mammoth load of caffeine and about $60 dollars worth of crap to experiment with aka makeup and facial products.
- I am not a tomato
- My skin's still intact
- It's a win/win
  - Money spent on the good of my kind.
I've been shedding like a fiend both from my elbows and scalp. I've got my own brand of epidermis crack. It's literally an itchy havoc but I deal with it like most things main because
- I pick at myself
- like I'm about to have a seizure
- to secure I am real
- during times I feel as if I am not
I've been thinking about the future. You know that 'galaxy far, far, away' thing. It'd be easier if I just simply believed in extraterrestrials but I do not.
- If I did I could live my life
- chasing fantasy
- be ok with the ragged dreams in my head
  - which as of late have been earth-shattering.
They all revolve around family. I don't know why. I think he's someone sunk into my nervous system and is slowly trying to uncover what makes me tick.
- When I say him
- I mean him
- You know him, right?
If you don't. I'll explain it in depth eventually. If you look back a few days you'll see snippets of him. Today I've got a physical to see if I am physically healthy.
- Mentally I already know
- I'm missing a few screws
- that's probably why I always get screwed over
  - my life would be easier if I could cough up some bolts.
like a good little machine. I act robotic. I do what I'm told or am told what to do. Nowadays, I'm trying to fight it. I tell them, 'Don't put words in my mouth' or 'I know what to do' like it's somehow possible for me to be functioning.
- There's a knocking outside
- the hammer on nail kind
- it causes a stir inside of me.
  - like hearing the ticking of a clock
  - I wait
  - because an explosion is soon to follow.
To avoid all ex and implosions I will smile and be sweet like a good girl, the type pedofiles fall for. I know this because I've been the target.
- I must look pretty tempting in there black eyes.
- I call there eyes black
- since I've noticed none have any color.
  - I can't recall his
  - even though his eyes bore into every pore of my skin
  - I'm trying not to be prey.
  - Wish me luck.
Day 18.
- I'm sorry.
- I'm sorry for being a selfish person.
- for not thinking or hurting you.
- I never wanted that
- not at all.
  - I never wanted any pain to come to you.
Your tears were sad. I know that's the most ignorant cliche ever and I looked at you not knowing when you always know what to do for me. I'm sorry I'm so foolish sometimes.
- I don't ever want to make you cry
- I don't ever want to push you away again.
I love you for you and who you are and I'm so lucky to have met you. For once in my life you're like the first person who's seriously not bullshitting me when it comes to being a legit kind-hearted person.
- I understand that now.
- What it means to have someone care about you
- in a healthy
I'm just sorry I pushed and ran when I shouldn't of. I keep making bad choices but I'm hoping to change that. I like how you told me,
- I'm not going anywhere
- I keep thinking about how've I acted and hurt you
  - I don't deserve it.
It's just sometimes I get so messed up and I don't think. I never want to do that again. I want to be here because I don't want my family or you or her to ever shed one tear.
- I want to live
- I want to live
  - I want to live..
I realize: Day 19 I left the word "live" with only two periods, not three. It's symbolic in a way. I am unsure how but it'll reveal itself maybe. I've been thinking a lot since last night's dreams were blank. I slept until 9:30am.
- I woke up but didn't really
- my eyes just as suddenly as I noticed I was up.
- I kept thinking: I want to lie here and sleep.
- but I couldn't
  - I had to get up.
I went to sleep shivering. I had my sister throw on another blanket before going right off to sleep. I was a baby, wrapped in the blankets, safe. Yet, another time in my adult life that I've felt so.
- it strikes me
- hard sometimes
- when that sense of security comes on
- and I do not panic
- i ease into it
- like it's natural
- I don't question the motive at all.
I've been listening to Mad World today. I discovered it playing in the background of a youtube video. It speaks volumes of how depression can be and how we see the world.
- I'm sure if my parents or siblings heard me
- listening to it
- they'd tell me to shut it off
- because the lyrics are troublesome.
- especially the lines:
- "I find it kind of funny.
- I find it kind of sad
- The dreams in which I'm dying
- are the best I've ever had."
As I look up into the mirror and see myself. I am askew. I see the layers of weight caked on my body and the look in my eyes like something is missing. Tears for Fears were right.
- no expression.
Day 20. I can't listen to music when I type. It makes me jittery and I feel like I may crawl out of my skin like the vibrations and rhythm are a bad mix, sort of like sedatives and alcohol.
- I wouldn't know much about that though.
- you could say I'm anonymous
- to the vast world of intoxicated bodies and minds.
My drink of choice is a triple shot expresso and the caf. gets me so high sometimes I might as well be a kite. My body's pretty shallow at these things. So it does the devious backwards in the purest form.
- I'm sure if there ever comes a time
- when I drink like a fish
- and flop into the ocean
- I'll be so messed up
  - not a soul in the world could tell me, 'buck up baby'
I dislike the word baby, to be specific: 'Oh baby' those two words remind me of him. The way his eyes looked like two tigers, got his prey with one look. I'd have rather dealt with the claws digging into my skin, ripping my flesh clean to the bone than be his ideation.
- How did he contemplate it?
- it was done with a lick to his lips
- he was hungry
- I was an easy target.
If I had got off the range became a lioness maybe I could slay the demon the world calls 'a man'.
- What is a man?
- I see men in business attire
- walking stick straight through the crowds
- with their roaming eyes
- i know what they're thinking
- you silly, little pricks
but I've already been gotten. I think the others sense it. Again, I'm an easy target but no more will I be. I'll take any man by the balls and tell him, " If you do unto her what he's done unto me,"
- You'll be castrated.
- You'll be at home, in a chair, like me.
- Staring out the window, wondering about your own life
- but you see I'm going to live mine
  - even though you tried with all your might too
  - ruin me.
Some words of wisdom I can foresee. I'll tell you for free. Keep dicky in your pants and your mouth zipped. Stupid prick.
- I'm going to live free of you.
- I'm going to tear you right off of me.
- I'm going to live as me.
I feel like dirt under fingernails. Day 21. My body's reverted back to 10 years ago when my arms and thighs touched. I can't stand it though I know what to do to change it back to the way it was.
- step 1: 45min of hardcore running
- also known as, up hill to the max
- a yogurt for lunch and carrots
- no sweets.
  - continue like this for the rest of your life.
  - or until the restricting binge happens upon you.
God, I used to hate it when I'd binge after restricting. It's like you went all day 'doing good' and than its all down the drain. I wish I could say literally but I wasn't the type to vomit it all up. I'd chew and spit but never regurgitate.
- Don't get me wrong I tried too
- I'm a helpless little nitwit I suppose.
- toothbrushes and fingers
  - did nothing.
So, I'd exercise it off the following day. It's like yesterday in my head but not on my body. Hi body, I cannot stand you but I'm too lackadaisical now to change you around.
- My body's nothing like it was
- when he ravaged it.
- I was prepubescent.
- that I can add a literally too.
I miss being as 'thin as a rail' or stick or whatever else has no curves. If curves were truly something women lusted after I'd see a lot more rear-ends than I would back bones.
- The itching has returned at full force.
- I've got scabs now
- and I've even picked those.
It keeps me centered I think. I don't know. This coming Tuesday it's back to the old out with the new. I'm unsure what to think about it all. I'm pretty much spent. I want to sleep this entire day off. I wish I could the week.
- I need a job.
- I can no longer be jobless.
- I need a penny in my pocket and a regular check.
  - it depresses me to have to start looking again
  - but I have too.
It may just be the one thing that can keep me sane.
Day 22 wasn't so bad and in my rush of normalcy I forgot all of technology. I'm pretty crafty at giving computers the skip. There wasn't much drama, shocker I know. Since I make it like a Shakespearian play except for the evening.
- That familiar empty-feeling
- settled in and asked me to
- chew and chew and chew.
- So I did to an extent
  - 2 1/2 bowls of sugary kiddie cereal goodness.
but than the guilt and the fat set in. Luckily, I've got good support and thankfully I reached out at oh, 8:30 in the PM.
- Sometimes I feel like the chewing helps
- to quiet my thoughts that rage and rage
- and the texture of shoveling in spoonful after spoonful
- manages to stave off the emptiness
- that I fill with sugary heaps.
I know I have to deal. Sometimes I hate dealing. It's like sitting on your hands and going, "Oh no I don't want too" when really you do. I've done it before. It just takes time. God help me.
- least I fell like a stone to bed
- there in my sunset-colored lake of
- burnt pinks and oranges and green stripes
  - and I slept with the same old oddities I have for dreams.
Day 23, awoke drinking lukewarm coffee made by my sister who loves me lots. I ate a normal breakfast proportionate to my stomach size which wanes day to day from guppy to elephant.
- Oatmeal with nuts.
- I'm my own forest fairy.
  - Yesterday, I played an MMO
  - and yes, since mermaid was not an option
  - I of course chose fairy.
If I had it my way fantastical creatures would live in this world though with my luck they'd turn out ugly and evil and try to make me their cadaver.
- sort of sounds like my kaiju.
- I'd love them anyway though, just like my kaiju.
- anyway, this all seems so normal and ordinary
- isn't that something?
I'm anxious about seeing my therapist, not the one I saw whilst she was on maternity leave but my actual therapist. I feel like I am at a crossroads and I am unsure if I'm running away or just progressing.
- I feel selfish
- because I do not really feel anything
- when the thought of leaving her comes to mind
- I guess I am heartless.
even after she has done so much for me. I don't want to be the legit Doctor-hopper patient but then again I really do not want this happening every time I start a new.
- maybe it was the distance
- or just everything that had happened
- the assault and the unknowing
  - I don't know.
I made a pros and cons list though my OCD got in the way. I felt I had to make each list equal. So, in the end the pros didn't out weigh the cons and vice versa.
- I know most therapists are like Henry Flemings
- They can take every blow like stoic idioms.
  - they were their red badge of courage pretty valiantly
When a patient moves on. It's most always ok. I don't know how to feel about that even though the therapeutic relationship is one sided. They must attach in some way, shape, or form.
- I don't know.
- She's done a lot for me.
- but again, I don't know.
That's mostly my problem in life. I am unsure of everyone and thing but with Dr. S suicide isn't an option. I've no Plan B to fall back on. That's a big step if I commit to that therapy with Lora I feel like even if I reverted to Plan B she'd take me back.
- but should I really have that Plan B?
Day 24. I feel like a boat in the middle of the sea where tides and whirlpools shake the vessel and knock about all the crew. I jostle, scatter, bash, and smack against every one and thing but I'm unsure how to gain control.
- I hate this feeling.
- I hate it more than beef steak for dinner.
- It's the overwhelming urge to rip open
- and lay all the chaos bare.
I don't know what to do with it all. So, I just sit on my hands in waiting like I will settle and drift to where I am supposed to go. In other words, it's like ADD to the max sans the Ritalin.
- I feel impulsive.
- I loathe it but I haven't given into the impulse.
Yesterday, was strange seeing her again. I acted as if things were all right and they were to some extent. I guess I've made changes but I am unsure. I didn't know what to feel. I thought I'd feel more
- but I didn't.
- Does that mean I'm ungrateful?
- Or that I am just a self-serving witch?
  - I have a new kaiju now.
  - She came about today.
I call her Pandem. She's an odd thing, part panda bear mixed with grizzly. She looks at me glaringly while grunting. I believe she hates my guts with a passion so I don't spew them to her.
- I think it'd be better if
- I lived in kaiju's world.
- where things appear certain but are not at all.
  - I'd be happier there I think.
  - Still, I'm unsure.
Sometimes I wish I was completely out of my head. It'd be easier. I went out late today, got a small binder and Starbucks. It wasn't all that thrilling though. I thought going out would help my mood but it seems it just made me jittery.
- What I'd like to do is spend lots of money
- on things I do not need that will make me joyful
- for good 45 seconds.
  - and than 'back to center'
  - this is the yoga practice for BPD.
I just popped 1MG of Ativan, maybe it'll help dull my over-active senses. I'm thinking exercise within the next 10 or so minutes. It's like I've become a gerbil. I run on my wheel day in and day out.
- I hope to make progress
- and some days I do.
- The feelings aren't as strong
- my emotions are in check
  - and than BAM!
  - Everything sky rockets.
I just want the legit, 'on an even keel' whatever that means. I want it desperately. I don't want to feel out of my element. I want to be happy and not fake it.
- I want medications that do not cause
- kidney failure, thyroid malfunction, and T.D.
- I just want to be normal.
  - I want to be me.
Whatever or whomever that is. I am so tired of this. Maybe I am just at the wrong places and with the wrong people. I keep reading these stories of therapeutic successes and how patients are 'better' and 'lighter' and 'free. Some even claim 'happy'
- I want that.
- God I want that so much
- I don't want to be this hapless muck
  - emailing her therapist and everyone else.
  - I need help but I'm unsure how to get it.
It's like I'm locked up. I do this to protect myself. I keep myself as closed off as I possibly can and I bottle my emotions, memories, and whatever else is bothersome.
- I stack each one up on the shelf.
- I watch and collect
- Over and over
  - but I cannot figure out how to help myself.
  - how to solve this puzzle that is 'me'
  - elixers don't work nor does positive thinking.
- fairy dust went out the door
- with magic wands and star wishes.
- same with mother's kisses on cheeks and knees.
  - what can cure this disassembly?
  - of girl and woman and just a human being.
  - maybe there isn't a remedy
- but I cannot afford that kind of thinking.
- I'll find it
- the key
  - and walk through the door.
  - where the light doesn't warm or make my eyes squint.
  - they call this: wishful thinking, I think.
  - What happened to that?
Day 25. I can't help skipping days now for some reason. I can be out in this world but feel sunken in. I'm happy I think. I smile like I am but inside there's a darkness I cannot grab a hold of.
- I wish it was first light
- at the start of winter
- when the chill outside catches in your breath
- and your bones settle beneath your skin
- stiffening the muscles in your fingers
- everything feels cold but calmer.
- like you've been purified by a strange draft of wind
I like days like that, in the morning only, feels like starting over again. I don't know why. Specialty coffee isn't giving me what I need, that yearning for life in all its caffeinated glory.
- I miss hungering for something.
- someone
- anything.
I don't really know if this is depression anymore but just me. When I meet with her I start to wonder how it is she can keep going, not in the life kind of way but internally. It always seems like she's hiding something but I don't know.
- I won't name her because
- I don't want her to know
- though I'm sure if she reads this
  - she'll know who she is.
  - I still like her though.
  - even though it's kind of weird to write it.
I've been back and forth with the great meds debate. Lithium, Abilify, Lamictal. Every single one has something. Twitches and shakes, kidney failure and toxicity, deadly skin rashes that burn you to a crisp.
- I don't know but
- I think it's logic
- well, logically to say
  - that even though I'm impractical
  - stubborn
  - mildly insane
  - these sorts of warning scare me.
My throat feels tight and sore. I feel bloated as well like I swallowed a gallon of Pacific. Life's at a stand still that is for certain and I realize the relationships I do kind of sort of have I'm atrocious at keeping.
- I try sometimes
- but I don't really know what to do
- what I normally do is
- give and give and give
- until I'm bitter and asking
- 'why the hell I even started'
On a side note my mother bought me a new backpack since my other one looks as if I've had it since middle school. I guess there's a sort of childish intent in me that I keep carrying around like I'm some kind of 7th grader.
- It's vintage D&B
- It's cute
- at least I think
  - and it was a grand total of $5 dollars
  - all and all I'm sold.
I fear it'll break though with the amount I put into it but to get back on point I've got to figure out what to do with my life and its spattering.
- I'm tired.
- I feel sick
- My white blood cell count is zilch
- my body's fighting for God knows what purpose
- and it's also fatigued.
- I think we both need to sleep.
- not pitifully like last night
- but in a KO'ed kind of state
- where the darkness encloses
- every inch
- and I don't have fight any longer.
Day 26. I caught a movie with my sisters. That sounds like 'I caught a cold' it makes sense I suppose the theater was chilly. I watched pretty girls in fairytales.
- they were all so lovely
- so pure
- it makes me wish I could have my innocence.
I keep thinking about him. There are so many memories. I keep asking why like in a minute's deep thinking I'll know. Why was it me? Why was it him? Why did it happen? What were the motives?
- I'll never have closure
- even when all is through
- and the silence is never silent
  - any longer.
My mind's in constant motion. I digress in a commotion of sleep, disturbed by words and images, mostly a good mix of both. I revolve in it's cycle, trapped.
- I don't know what to do
- so I just be
- like I'm astute in dialectical behavior therapy.
  - I'm not anything like Buddha
I go umm rather than ohm and my body though riddle with it's own type of fat doesn't bulge as much as mister swimming pool belly button. I'm hoping I'll never be that far gone.
- I made a promise to myself
- to record 30 days of my behaviors.
- How I was, am, feeling, sorted through.
  - I thought it might give insight
  - to who or how I am.
  - but I'm not so sure anymore.
I haven't the tenacity to go back and read through this. In it's muddle of quick remarks and over cliched prose. I probably sound like a sullen teenager or an absurd reclusive.
- either way I'll still do it.
- continue with the task of typing my life away.
- I'm told often how I am 'always on the computer'
  - if only they knew what for.
in the same way they are trying to help me find myself. I am also trying to find what it is I keep stored up. For some reason I close it and shut it all out but I'm waiting.
- I hear the humming sometimes
- like I am almost certain
- the locks will start to click
  - and I'll open up
  - like eye in socket.
  - I've been figured, figuratively speaking.
  - on a side note today was the day
  - I found the perfect shade of red lipstick.
- quite a feat, I know.
Day 27. I went out with my parents. We ate lunch at Panera Bread and it was nice. Nothing groundbreaking but it was all very proper like a Sunday should be though I suppose it'd be even better if I hadn't sans the church.
- Sometimes I wonder about
- what it would be like to be 17 again.
- all the emotional angst and affinity for everything.
If I knew everything I knew thus far I would've enjoyed my teenage years more but I feel like I never had the time. There was always something or I was always something.
- So it's too late now to go back
- not like I could go back
- or that I'd ant too
  - Unless I won the lottery
  - and had today's numbers.
I wore eye makeup yesterday and have since acquired a sty in my right eye. It scratches my iris like cat. I'm hoping by tomorrow it will be gone. Other than that aside from a few unsettling flashbacks and mildly intrusive OCD
- I've been well.
- Kind of funny isn't it?
Day 28. I hate anxiety. I loathe the presence of dry mouth, fat tongue, can't swallow even with all the water in the world. I hate my indecision. My eating habits.
- I chewed and spit last night
- over a silly graham cracker
- and today I've been O.Ding on chocolate chips.
  - nothing seems to end it.
Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. Maybe I just need to kick it into high gear. I keep thinking about all my therapists and him and myself and the world and my family and every THING....EVERY THING.
- I cannot take meds that cause permanent problems.
- but I can't not take anything.
- I feel miserable.
  - I want to cry but I swallow
God I hate this fat tongue feeling. I'm just going out of my head and I don't know what to do. I texted my nutritionist. I don't think anyone can help me.
- I can barely help myself.
- and look only 2 days left until 30.
  - my face feels like it's sweating off.
  - I give up.
I've tried all the alternatives. DBT is for the birds or Buddha minded people. I've never been fruit and nuts. I eat with carnivorous passion and I hurt everyone for some reason that tries to help me.
- I've got to get it together
- somehow get my head on straight.
- and pretend like all is well.
  - I took a shower this morning
  - can't take another.
  - do I self-soothe when ready to crawl out of my skin
not claw but crawl. I'm done with fighting. I've lost all grievances and I'm sure they all have too. Get rid of her. Get her gone and figure her healthily unhealthy.
- what's it like to be stable?
- what's it like to hang on?
  - what's it like to wear sweats with the drawstring all the way pulled?
I miss those days the most. When things seemed comfortable, sagging against all of my life like two droopy eyes or old boobs. I listen to music. I pull out the books. I obsessive over how my tongue is feeling.
- Benzos don't work anymore.
- when you're broken.
- I'm alone in this and I accept it.
  - radically.
Day 29. I've skipped 2 days of writing. I just wanted to be legit about it and up front for whomever reads this which may very well only be me, myself, and I.
- I've got cherry bomb in my head
- oddly enough I like The Runaways
- never thought I would
  - they're some tough chicks.
  - I like that.
anyway, I think I've developed that sort of mentality. The bitchy/rough exterior and I bite people's heads off with a pretty short-tempered fuse. I'm just fed up and sick of the therapeutic push.
- I need a break.
- and I'm sick of pulling for whatever it is
- I am supposed too.
  - I've been taking my prns
  - like they're some kind of magical bean
  - inside of me they grow a moderately happy person.
- I think it's a kaiju
- I should probably name her.
  - Ema.
  - that works.
  - and she's a feral animal
- that looks sweet.
I hate that word with a passion goes right up there with the aforementioned baby. sweet baby. baby sweet. go put a sock in it. My mind's a mental mine field but I'm coping.
- taking a PRN now.
- I should probably tell someone
- otherwise trust is out the proverbial window.
  - I'm sticking to schedules though
  - my body aches
- and I feel like a sluggish elephant of a girl.
- I'll get back to you about it later.
  - right now I have a routine to get too.
  - battle for the fittest.
  - yeah, fucking, right.
I've skipped again. A few days have past due to lackadaisical tendencies. It sort of reminds me of well, I just lost my train of thought but I'm sure it'll come back at some point.
- Day 30.
- but not technically
- I've since decided this won't be my last
  - it'll be my last when I cease this cycle
  - or break it.
my hair smells like coconut milk. It's almost nauseatingly nostalgic. It reminds me of beaches and summer. I kind of like that in a 'lover of all things that take the shape of clam shells'. Though, I've yet to gain a pearl.
- So, it's happened
- the meds trial
- It's been decided
  - 2 weeks
  - and than I can quit
- hopefully by then I won't have TD
I don't make a good twitcher or convulsed. I'm spending my last days of sanity like this. Writing more for illogical fear all seemingly lackluster skills will be taken from me due to antipsychotics and also because I've lapsed so many days thus far.
- not that anyone reads this.
- still, even if the sole number of readers is
- me, myself, and I
thats how my mind works. the wheels start turning and than void. I've been thinking a lot about my first therapist. I have no clue why. Maybe it's the coconut scent. I don't know.
- she never smelled like coconut milk
- more like a botanical
  - her office was full of hanging plants
  - orchids
  - and the occasional poinsettia at holiday.
I don't know why I'm thinking about her. This is the reason why I hate venturing out and establishing platonic relationships. They have a way of creeping back into your mind and going, "you stupid idiot" /edit remember.
- Yes, it's sort of like that.
- I don't know.
- I say that a lot.
  - actually I remember an entire session
  - dedicated to me saying just that
  - with her.
- Mrs. Botanical.
She just kept saying it's like a 'filler'. I fill in the silence with 'i don't know'. That's a crumby way of filling. It's more like an injunction. Anyway, enough with the memories.
- I might cry or feel or something.
- and I don't want that per say
- even though I sobbed like a baby
  - at our last session.
  - like I was breaking up with a boyfriend
- or something.
- God, I'm such a dolt.
I need to learn to buck up better and not become some sensitive. I seriously need balls of steel or just a shred of self respect. Seriously, who cries like that?
- apparently, I do.
- Ugh.
  - All right, I'm done with the reminiscing.
    - It's been nice thinking of you
- I guess.
- Mrs. Botanical
- but I have to think about me.
When did I start talking with so many verb and adjectives? And sort of like a cop on a pot of caf. coffee. I think I need to lay off the caffeine.
- My mom says I might make it big someday
- garner a lot of money for
- Lord knows.
  - I'm hoping it's writing.
  - but it cannot be that.

may 14 2012 ∞
jun 19 2012 +