I can't believe....
There's a lot of stuff I don't believe in, and very few things that I do. I believe that there are people in the world who love me whole heartedly, but when it comes down to it they can't make me better and they can't always take care of me, so I need to learn how to take care of myself even though I am screwed up. I believe that science makes sense and is true, or at least as true as we can comprehend. I believe that humanity has a built in tendency to be inappropriate, to be mean, to be horrible, but that we also know instinctively how to love, to care, to make each other smile. I don't believe in God, but I can believe in the future, in what will come, and I can trust it in a way that I don't even trust myself anymore. I know that life sucks, but more than anything else I want the happiness, I just have to believe that the happiness is worth the shit, the pain, and the confusion.
More than a lot of other things right now, I'm incredulous that I just took another medication. I don't want to whaz out again tonight, hopefully this will help.
I spend so much time being angry. Talked to a psychiatrist on the phone last night and had to explain myself. It went something like this: "I'm so angry all the time, and then when it gets really intense I get agitated because I'm angry, and then I just want to get away from where I am...So I go....Yes, I am suicidal again, but I'm not going to kill myself because I don't want to die. It's like...I get so mad and so angry but I don't want to hurt anyone else, so I want to hurt myself instead." Sometimes is nice to be the torturer, even if you have to be the tortured at the same time.
What's wrong with me?
My mother thinks that it was all just because I was biking too hard. BULL-FUCKING-SHIT (Refer to "Usage of Fuck"). Somehow I need to work up the guts to explain it to her in terms that she can't contest, though I don't guarentee that she'll accept them. And I need to talk to my father, but I need my mother not to be there, and that is really hard to manage. I need to go talk to the psychiatrist again and see if we can't do something with the medication to somehow manage this problem. And P-Lady says that the meds aren't the cure, they're just there to help and you have to do the rest, but this is so nebulous that I think I can safely say the meds aren't working, at least not properly. And I try, I really, really do. I can't explain it really, but I try so hard that it makes my brain ache, and I cry so hard it makes my head ache, and I'm so lost that I don't think I'll ever make it back.
I hate feeling it on the edges on my consciousness.
More than a lot of other things right now, I'm incredulous that I just took another medication. I don't want to whaz out again tonight, hopefully this will help.
I spend so much time being angry. Talked to a psychiatrist on the phone last night and had to explain myself. It went something like this: "I'm so angry all the time, and then when it gets really intense I get agitated because I'm angry, and then I just want to get away from where I am...So I go....Yes, I am suicidal again, but I'm not going to kill myself because I don't want to die. It's like...I get so mad and so angry but I don't want to hurt anyone else, so I want to hurt myself instead." Sometimes is nice to be the torturer, even if you have to be the tortured at the same time.
What's wrong with me?
My mother thinks that it was all just because I was biking too hard. BULL-FUCKING-SHIT (Refer to "Usage of Fuck"). Somehow I need to work up the guts to explain it to her in terms that she can't contest, though I don't guarentee that she'll accept them. And I need to talk to my father, but I need my mother not to be there, and that is really hard to manage. I need to go talk to the psychiatrist again and see if we can't do something with the medication to somehow manage this problem. And P-Lady says that the meds aren't the cure, they're just there to help and you have to do the rest, but this is so nebulous that I think I can safely say the meds aren't working, at least not properly. And I try, I really, really do. I can't explain it really, but I try so hard that it makes my brain ache, and I cry so hard it makes my head ache, and I'm so lost that I don't think I'll ever make it back.
I hate feeling it on the edges on my consciousness.