Impertinent Ramblings

"I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep"

-Ned Vizzini

There's no real meaning to this blog post. I know I haven't posted in a while so of course, I should be posting stuff. And that's maybe part of it. And I'm sorry I've left you waiting. I've got a couple of posts planned but I need to write them up first. I'll start working on them when I feel better, I promise.

OK, before I start rambling, a little disclaimer: I will be fine. Don't worry about me, don't lose any sleep (that's important) and dear god, don't call my mother! I'm safe and I have no intention of not being safe. I just simply need to get some feelings off my chest and hopefully, it will offer some insight into what life is like for someone like me.

I have not been feeling good recently. That's not entirely true, I've had a few moments where I felt OK over the past few days - just distracted from life, I suppose - but my general mood has been weird. I look miserable and I suppose I do feel miserable but mostly, I just feel numb. Too numb to cry. I feel like I need to cry but I can't for some reason. It sucks. I would fill the emptiness with food but I don't feel like eating. I can't remember the last time I ate a meal, I've just been snacking when my stomach starts rumbling too loudly. I've eaten less than half of some leftover pumpkin pie in the last 24 hours. Normally, I don't stop eating. The last time I got worse, I went off food for a bit. That's probably what's happening now. I'm on fluoxetine, I was warned I might get worse before I get better. Just have to grin and bear it I suppose. Except I can't grin. I was able to on Friday but yesterday, I was just dull and flat. I didn't leave my room a whole lot and I just lay in bed like a spectacularly ugly statue. Modern art, perhaps. When I did leave my room (for pie and Pepsi and to feed the cats), I barely lifted my feet off the ground. Like a zombie. 

I feel like a zombie. Except zombies have a goal (to eat BRAAAAIIINS) and motivation. I'm just kind of aimless. I didn't wash or get changed but that's nothing new. I can't be bothered with that. What's the point in washing when I'll just get dirty again? Why should I get changed when I'm not going anywhere? I'd rather sleep. My thoughts are slow and incoherent, like a tired drunk at a typewriter and each time they hit a key, a bolt of pain hits my forehead. Is thinking meant to hurt? I don't know but it's too much for me to deal with so I sleep. I don't have to deal with anything when I'm asleep. I wish I could stay asleep forever. So I'm low. Very low. I've been worse but that offers little comfort when I'm like this.

I have a feeling this will pass though. My feet are tapping uncontrollably which means I'm going into one of those periods where I seem almost normal, happy I suppose. I'm not happy but I'm not as low so I'll take it. The only problem is controlling myself. I'm pretty good with self control but I spend money like I'm dying tomorrow. I haven't spent money in a while simply because that would require getting out of bed and going out. Nah. But when I get enough energy, I know I'll be down at Tesco, throwing half the shop into my trolley. My appetite will return with a vengeance and I'll have to stock up on meals and snacks and a plaid shirt that I've decided I need.

This money is to last me till god knows when but I can't stop myself. I feel better when I'm buying things. Human. It's what normal people do, shop. Because they need to feed themselves and clothe themselves and surround themselves with nice things and I'm kind of shit at all of that. But when I buy stuff, it seems like I'm one step closer to getting better. Of course, I'm not - eating my way through four shopping bags of goodies and trying to ignore my thoughts which trip over each other and occasionally tumble out of my mouth (the tired drunk at the typewriter has been replaced by a psychotic person on ecstasy at a state-of-the-art computer) is no better than lying in bed, immobile. But, aside from my mad twitches - seriously, my arms flap about so much, I'm surprised I haven't taken wing yet - I seem more socially acceptable like that. I can hold a conversation and cook for myself and laugh and smile. My psychiatrist says it's normal and the reason it feels so insane is because I'm so low the rest of the time. I guess that makes sense but I always feel slightly unstable like that.

It's not that I prefer being low. I don't like any of it. I want to sleep and I want to stay asleep because then no one will have to be bothered about me and I won't have to deal with everything that being awake brings. But I'm expected to live. Crawling into bed and staying there is not an option. I'll be dragged through life, kicking and screaming, whether I like it or not. I don't feel I can cope. I've got this far, sure, but how much further can I go? Who knows? I've just got to try, I suppose. Easier said than done seeing as I'm completely incapable of living. But hey. I'll give it my best shot. I'm doing an OK job of surviving so I might be able to integrate some living into that as well. I'm trying.

So that's what my life consists of. Not much. Like a very boring rollercoaster. But I needed to get this out lest I end up like an industrial amount of frankium in a swimming pool of water. Not good. It's late. I'll probably regret posting this when I wake up but why should I feel bad about a) being honest and b) using my blog to talk about MYSELF *gasps of horror*? I'll do what I damn well please. And right now, that's sleeping. Zzz...