Cycle cycle bang. Click click boom. More stoner loops, more senseless existential vomit from a brain ******** up beyond all recognition.
I'm going down. Not quite in flames, though I could provide some if it would add to the dramatic effect of the moment. But no. Drama is bad. I don't want you all worrying about me. I don't want any of you worrying. Worry about yourselves, I'm just me, not worth making yourself sick over. Don't worry yourself sick because there's nothing you can do. You've done plenty, making me get this far.
Lack of prediction again. No predicting the future. Plans fall through, always, the only question is what will be the thing that goes wrong this time. If it works somehow, something will go wrong. It always does.
Stop being pessimistic. Really? No. I'm not being pessimistic. It's realistic. Realism. Isn't that art? ******** it. Whatever. I'm being realistic realism whatever you want to call it. This is so farfetched. Things like that don't have a way of working.
The psych today. He wrote the appointment down wrong, 2 instead of the 3 he told me. Didn't even have 5 minutes to hand me a piece of paper for Ritalin 5s that could alter this reality or lack of it and give me some relief.
Do I really need relief from this? It's just the routine. If you took all this away, gave me a week or a month or a life without any of this, psychosis bipolar mania brief depression, I wouldn't be me. Wouldn't know what to do. Would sit around wondering why the ******** I wasn't cycling. Something missing. It's all I know or ever have known as long as I can remember. It's me.
Funny how I think of my personality as being intertwined so closely with a mental disease, a chemical imbalance. Throw medications into my body and kill off part of who I am. Is that what you want? No. It's not going to happen. I will never live out of a pill bottle. Never again. 10 years of it was more than enough, I'm on my own now. If I don't live another year, so be it, I'll die free.
It's funny. I want to run, just run and run and run down the street. I could go forever, couldn't I? No. I'm a semi-asthmatic. I'd make it a mile at the most, less if I was sprinting, which I would be, then I'd end up lying on the ground trying to breathe. And yet I still want to just run and run and run and never come back. Run forever, free. But I don't want to get up. I want to sit here and just not move, curl up in fetal position and hope for some small form of safety.
Don't ever ward me, ever. I know what I'll do there. A plan, you could call it. If it fails or I wimp out, I'll bullshit my way out. They'll never hold me. I've gotten good at masking, I could fool them like I've fooled the others so many times. I won't go to the ward. Warding is the ultimate failure.
Are you scared? Don't be. Please don't. I never meant to scare you but I do, every time. Don't you understand? This is my life. It's all I know. It doesn't scare me. It's not even a scary thing. Don't be scared for me.
I'm writing again. I just noticed. Stonerlooping out of control. I need something but I don't even have a way to get ******** up. I'll get out of this one, right? I always do. Sometimes I wish I didn't. Back into the same thing day after day. My only day off was the day I got ******** up with my friends overnight. I was fine that day, or maybe just too drunk to notice anything going wrong. Day after day after day, clocks spinning, and every day the same psychotic stonerloops that scare everyone but me.
The difference between being in control and losing control. When you've lost control, you can't stop yourself from doing things. You don't stop and think before you run into the street or drive off the cliff or go through the window and don't come back. I am borderline, is what you said. I still have some control. So don't worry. I'll cling to this control as long as I can.
There it goes. He's bleeding. It's just starting. Where's it going today? I'm on a rollercoaster of a bad trip and the restraints are broken. I cling to the seat and hope I won't go flying out on a loop. I don't hang on for myself. I wouldn't mind losing my grip. I hold on for you. I won't lose myself, because if I do, I lose you. So many of you.
I could talk forever, but it's warping, spinning, bleeding. I'm ending the entry here.
...It begins.... Don't cry.
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