in trouble again, just an endless line of self-bait and switch. Now I'm binge watching, I mean I'm still bingeing, tv shows. what a waste of time, what others wouldn't give to have the precious left to them, time I squander endlessly, 10-12 hours then to bed, ill sleep, rise, repeat.
I guess this is me choosing the easy thing, poor impulse control sure, how about don't get hurt? I'll spin it that way. I'm full to brimming with hurt, and haven't been releasing it. Except in ill-chosen bursts fuelled by the catch basin of anger. Filling my days with some small brights spots, walking the dog, without said dog I would be in bed or sitting 24/7. I guess this is depression, I guess this is being on meds that keep me safe.
I want to be safe and I understand why that it, yet I am lifeless and dull. Not showering as much. Drinking more. Yes, that's right because I don't have the consequence of instant brutal headache as with previous meds. sigh.
Writing to reach into my feelings , ease them into the air. Typing instead of picking, jabbing, cutting, tearing. It's all the same source, all the same driver. It's like seeking out the correct printer driver. I can feel them there, beneath my skin, swarming, vibrating, seeking and exit, now I've disturbed the hornet's nest.
I could just start walking and it would be the same source. Numbing. the great ebb and flow. sines waves of feelings, of activities and utter stillness.
where is the drive that others have seen?commented on? admired even? it's blanketed , it's in sedimentary layers of protection.
deep in my head I lurk, waiting for the danger to pass. danger lurks within too. it seems I must enter into this great ecosystem or die. It will kill me, we all will die, yet this current choice of the slow death is outside the growing forces of the universe. I am instead the unnatural scum, the dust settling, the mole to be scraped away. "Scrape the mould off the cheddar Manuel".
Time to shower then walk my dog.
peace out, or rather in, for a change.
Post from 2011 - Who am I if I'm not suicidal? What is life like? Where am I uncomfortable because I'm not suicidal? It feels anxiously flat, a nervous nothingness So I feel ...
1 year ago