Sometimes I feel like there is black paint inside of my skull.
I feel like I always have to be doing it to keep it moving because if it stands still too long, it will surely dry and I can’t have that, because it’s very hard to wash off. The bad part is, is that I can’t keep stirring it at night. That’s when it all starts seeping into my head and I can’t sleep.
Sometimes I feel like the paint bleeds out of my mind through my eyes, ears and mouth. I guess the paint is WonderHell. Painkillers are like tourniquets to keep WonderHell from spilling out into the real world. I can play safely inside my head and nothing too horrible happens, except for when I play too hard and have too much fun and it becomes too real.
I think this song would go perfectly along with this right now, so I’ll just leave this here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N9wKGYm_NF4
{Can I patent a painkiller alarm so I don’t have to crawl and grope around my room at odd hours all, “HURRRR WHERE ARE MAH PILLS HERP DERP NEED MAH PILLS CAN’T FIND MAH PILLS HURRR”? It makes me pathetically aware of my situation and I don’t like being aware of my situation unless I’m in self pity mode.}
OH, since some of you might be new here {I’m laying this on thick, I’m planning on writing a book and I want a bit of a following before I do.}, let me clarify a few things. I am not schizophrenic. On the first pain medication I was on when I went into psychosis {aren’t I in psychosis now? I don’t see much of a difference between then and now.} I did hear some things, but nothing really articulate. Mostly some ghostly singing, which, let me tell you right now, is freaky as fuck. Go on, pull your feet up into your chair, you know that was a bit eerie, especially if you were listening to that music with it.
Anyway, I am bipolar, OCD, and delusional. One of my delusions is called Walking Corpse Syndrome. When I went on Lyrica {Another medication…you can see why I refuse to take anything besides pain killers now. I will not be fucked up further} I began to feel one of the strangest feeling I’ve ever felt. That’s when I began to relate very closely to Alice. It felt like I was slowly walking through a world that was not real. I was suspicious of everyone, no one felt real. It was like everyone except for me was a doll. The sky felt like it was much lower {bear with me here, guys…I’m kind of crazy.} like I was in a big room instead of in a planet hovering in a Universe. The best way I could describe it to everyone was “I feel like I’m dead. I’ve died and this is the afterlife. There’s no other way to explain this” As you can see, I still have a sliver of lucidity, not believing 100% in my delusions, but not believing 100% in reality{?} either. Maybe that’s part of the delusion itself, the paranoia.
Another delusion is more…personal. I was thinking yesterday, and I was trying to convince myself that I’ve been alone for the majority of my life. It seems totally impossible. I feel like they’re here. They always have been. I’ve always valued my privacy so highly because that’s when we could be together. I never felt the need for many friends, to talk. I had all the friends I needed inside my head. {in case you’re wondering, they’re almost all horror movie characters}
In winter of 2009 is when they started leaving. This continues to baffle me till’ this day and I constantly wrack my mind for an answer {that god damned paint!} every day. I know that “they” were simply OCD, and OCD is a coping method for anxiety and trauma. The trauma and anxiety continued to happen, only there was nothing to stop it, nothing to make it any better. The water was very quickly rising. 2010 was probably one of the worst years, if not the worst year of my whole life thus far. I remember it reaching it’s shitty little climax, and me being really ready to end it. It was pain like I’d never felt, and there was nothing I could do to dull it. OH, and combine that with the agony of withdrawal {I got off of my current pain medication for about half a year…did not end well.} and, oh, I’m spiraling. I don’t think I can stress how horrific this was. You know when you’re depressed, and sometimes you kind of forget about it? Lol, fuck that.
So one night I’m thinking “I think, that if there is a god, he wants me to kill myself. It’s obvious {s}he is pressuring me into it. It’s only logical.” I go into my mom’s room {my mother has really been the only thing that’s kept me from actually doing it. I simply couldn’t do it to her, it wouldn’t be right.} and tell her that I just can’t do it anymore. At this point she is understandably frustrated. When I look back and tell her about it, she apologizes for not getting the severity of it. I had already started my Zoloft {don’t even fucking get me started on that bullshit} and she begged me to just let it kick in. I was crying and crying and crying because I was pretty much convinced that this was my last day, my life either ending by my hand or by God’s.
I-this is getting out of hand. This is not what this post is supposed to be about. Would you mind if I continued this in another posting? I mean, you couldn’t of been too interested. It’s not a very riveting story.
FILM CLASSES
~
I’m going to a screenwriting class starting tomorrow for three days and quite honestly, I’m dreading it. There are going to be people there. Teenage people. Teenage boys {presumably, since it’s a male dominated profession and because mommy said so} There will, as there was in school, the dilemma of who to sit with at lunch. Most of them will probably have cars {or, you know…friends.} and leave, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I can see myself very very easily slipping into my delusion and seeing myself as a solitary killer with my head down, being all…anti-social. I really want to. It makes life so much easier, even though it’s dangerous.
I find it funny, because no one would ever guess I would be the one to be…like this. I once told the cast of my play how much I love horror and how I could tell you anything about it, and I’ve never heard such a stunned silence. Finally, someone spoke up with “But…but you look so innocent!” I always feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I’m generally quite bubbly to people I don’t know, I dress in almost all Forever 21, I have the blond hair…Jesus, I annoy myself.
Well, I guess I’m going to stop now. I was going to start adding pics to make all of this a tiny bit less dull, but I didn’t know where to find any good ones so fucks ceased to be given after that point. If anyone has any tips, let me know.
whiterabbitfeedback@gmail.com
Toodle-loo.
No comments:
Post a Comment