wish i were

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx: 1, agit: 1


There's so much I can say about it, but I'd rather not blog about it. I just don't want to do this anymore.

As a way of coping, I slip into schizotypal mode and retreat into a unreal world where everything is pink-and-white tulips and classical guitar music. But i can only employ so much coping mechanisms. Especially when I am needed in the real world.

Oh, I hate you Real World. Screw you for not being pink-and-white tulips and classical guitar music all around.

Someone please just pick me up.

Or give me a quick, clean, painless death.

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EDIT: Four days later.

I read this entry just now (July 16), and .... Hahahaha, that's embarassing. My pride says delete but my lack of it says just leave it alone. Idiotic whino. It looks like something a sixteen year-old would write, only without the sloP tXt spelng.

Been trying to be pleasant these past few. I just don't have enough energy for controversy. Smile like an idiot when I don't know what to say, blink like a sleepy doll when I don't know what to think, mushy up all randomly and kitten-like with the hubby when I don't know what to do.

I've actually been feeling like a zombie, you know, in a consistent state of sleepwake. I'm never really asleep, never really awake. When I am dreaming, i don't know if I am truly asleep or if I'm awake / When i get up, I don't know if I am truly awake or if I'm still dreaming... * Like Edward Norton's character in Fight Club.

I still haven't caught up on rest from the recent ordeal. I don't think I know how. Neglected my meds and my tracking, and I don't know ... wait, what was it I didn't know?

I feel like a slab of raw pork forgotten and fly-drawing on a slimy kitchen counter, sticky and slothlike in my head. I think I think like one now too.

* Lyrics from Dream, Forest for the Trees