Updates: Media (lyrics) has a new layout. I could never figure out how to lay it out, but it's easier to navigate now. I'm still working on a better duplicate Mamblog mod. I'm trying to make submittions easier but the poetry form died for some reason. Quizzes are also on their way from the old site. Joomla content isn't very code friendly so I'm having to rewrite old code. You can still click on News > AH v21 > Screen if you wish to use the quizzes.
My sister complains of boredom all day and all night. To me better yet. Then my uh..serenity, calmness turns into boredom which turns into deafening anxiety. It's tiring. I feel sick with all the things I've eaten in the past two days. It's all her fault and my mother's fault. They buy all this junk. My mother says she'll make sure Lisa keeps things clean, BULL FUCKING SHIT. She never did before. She said 'I tried before' but that's bull shit also. I TRIED. She sat back and watched me struggle with it and get furious with her. This is only making me mad.
Reality. The reality is I've gone nuts and no amount of 'talking' about my problems is going to change that. My therapist keeps telling me that she thinks something happened to me. Something awful and that I have secrets because someone who can write 115 pages of anger can't JUST be angry with their parents. There has to be more. I think I'm just having a mental and emotional breakdown. She keeps asking me if I'm safe. What do YOU think that means? Well, to her it means am I planning to kill myself in the near future. Because, she says, that there are ways to keep me 'safe'.
I feel foreign in my own skin. It's like I tore mine apart piece by piece and now I'm using one that doesn't fit quite right. I'm being forced to get used to it, to love it, to make it my own. But it's colorless and scarred. I can feel it crawling, trying to fit this mold, but it never will. I constantly shake--from meds, pain killers, hunger--I'm not sure which of these things causes it but it never goes away. So I crank up the radio and find a small corner to hide in until it subsides for the night and it's time to sleep.
Lonely days and fearful nights are what I have to look forward to. Everything's spinning. The thought of living one more day is sickening. I'm gutless. I'll be miserable forever. I can't even look myself in the face. I can't stand to see the pain in my own face, though I know it's there. I can feel it lurking within. I just want to cry a river. But there is a higher force telling me not to. I'll be found out. As always. My meds have kicked in and now these words I write are a jumbled mess. I just want to sleep.
Confusion sadness tired and board and full of nothing. Marbles are clanging around inside an empty skull. A brain that is no longer mine has been eaten by meds and sleepless nights. The keys on the keyboard are a jumble of letters and images. Food is foreign and I do not put foreign things in my body. Call me an airarian. Air is the food I eat. It's plentiful and a native of my body. My bathroom scale dropped suddenly as if angels had lifted me into the air for that short time. 10 pounds in just a few days. Not possible...or is it?
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