2am

This is a really sucky time of day/night. I'ts cold and silent and damp with dew. Nothing can be resolved or improved at 2am. Especially if its raining. This is the time of night when you are tired but don't want to sleep, so you end up sitting around in a useless dry-eyed state, watching crappy late night movies, or talking to fellow insomniacs and haunting the edges of cyberspace, writing useless blogs. Cigarettes taste nice at this time, and so do sandwiches. There is not usually any drinking right now... these are the sober lands separating the late night from the all-nighter, a time to reflect.

Well...

So after waking up feeling like absolute shit, and then going back to sleep, I was woken up by Grace. Luckily by this time the headache had gone and it was time for me to wake up.
Then I read my blog, and find that I wrote some semi-coherent stuff, including an impressive copy-and-paste job about my being crazy.

I don't even remember this stuff... I was utterly fucked.
And I am no longer able to straighten my arm properly. Oops.

Ow

Now this is going to be one bitch of a scar. In fact, three bitches of scars. (Struggles with agreement of plurals).

Try and explain this away then...

Schnapps

And yes... I really want to die. i think a suicidal post has been long overdue. And after the crazy strong weed and 3 quarters a bottle of cheap-ass fake Archers... well, this is fucking inevitable.

My arms are so ugly...

And I'm still friends with him. Love.. .. ... ..

No. None of tht crap. No such thing as love. See, I can deny its existance just because it doesn't work out for me. Fuck it. There's no such thing as me. Dissociation. Derealization. See, they think it's some kind of mental disorder but really its a gift.

Derealization/depresonalization is one of the scariest things anyone can suffer. It can make you feel like you're going crazy, that you're schizophrenic or that you're stuck in your dream world.

Symptoms :
- Feeling dead or like a walking zombie.
- Feeling as if you're a spectator watching a movie or just watching the world go by and that you're really not in it.
- Looking at your body from the outside
- Feeling like you're looking at the world inside a bottle and cannot escape
- Spacyness
- Feeling as if it is a dream and that you'll be waking up anytime soon.
- Watching a movie or television and thinking that you're part of the program.
- Emotional numbness
- Feels like looking through the world through a veil, or you might have extra sharp vision (due to dilated pupils).
- Amnesia. This is a medical emergency, it is a symptom of DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder). Or it could signal brain damage or severe depersonalization.
- Dizziness, lightheadedness, sensitivity to light and sound and blurred vision.


Above are just some of the symptoms, do any of yours sound similar?

What Causes Derealization/Depresonalization

- Depression, with or without psychotic features (very common)
- PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) (very common)
- Panic disorder, symptoms during a panic attack (very common)
- Generalized anxiety, obsessive-compulsive (very common)
- Repeated trauma, with or without PTSD (very common)
- Street drug abuse, particularly LSD and marijuana (very common)
- Physical stress (common)
- Menses (common)
- Sleep deprivation, extreme drowsiness (common)
- Viral/bacterial infection (common)
- Racing thoughts (common)
- Neurological disease (common for over 50 but rare for those under 50 to be causing the symptoms).
- Thyroid disease (rare)
- Schizophrenia (common for schizophrenics. Does NOT mean you have schizophrenia! Dissociation is not schizophrenia.)

Well, I now know why I think I'm a ghost. Which is possibly not the most useful discovery ever made.









Well, I just wasted a stack of time writing this blog which is never read, and I don't even feel any better for it. Narcissisim is not the cure.

Drugged

Yes... I seem to be constantly under the influence of one thing or another. I'm writing this still stoned from last night, as I wait to go and pick shrooms. Yesterday was Monday. Tally: 4 tequila shots, a bottle of red wine, 7 codeine, a bong, and share in two epic spliffs. (And I mean epic. Even the hardened stoners were fucked.)
I really am going to die young. But never mind, its not like I've got anything better to do.

Pain

I've run the range, from the bottle to the razorblade, and still this pain is clawing its way through my chest. Still I can't quite breathe and the wrong word-image-association brings tears as all the broken edges rub raw again.

I haven't even written about him. But... I believed. Love.

Stupid bitch.

Too complicated. We had good times. Seven weeks. Seven weeks? Is that all?
And then he went to uni. Distance. And then... this morning. I knew it was on its way. For the past five days I've known. For the past five days I've wanted to cry. And then this morning it was finally over and finally there were tears and blood and pills and strong strong drink. I wish I was strong.

He says he loves me. Loves. Present continuous.

It feels like a long time ago when we were lying there and he said 'I love you.' I said I didn't believe in love.

Then I said I didn't know.

Then I said 'I love you.'
'I love you too.'
I meant it.

Now there's only pain. And now love is the most distant concept. As the evil in my mind says, why the fuck would anyone love me? Of course he doesn't love you. Idiot for thinking that.
They told me not to listen to negative self talk. Problem is, it's usually true.

I'm trying to cope the best I can. It only feels like I'm dying.

Mousy

My mousy died. She was a little brown mouse with a white star on her forehead and a little white patch on her back. Her name was Hester Houdini and she was the best mouse ever. She always made me smile, with her crazy adventures and escaping in my room (twice!) I'll miss her, I can't think of anything that makes me smile more than she did.