I woke up feeling weird. I still feel weird. Like I don’t want to get out of bed, but I can’t be here in my house either. I don’t want to be outside, and pretty much every breath is feeling like a waste of effort. For the record, I have been given a clean bill of mental health, organically at least, minus that whole love-hate relationship with drugs that was as endless as Godfather III.
Today…I can’t shake out of this claustrophobia wrapped around my mind. Everything is tight around me, and wherever I move, it closes reality in far too close. Shut my eyes to sleep and my dreams are on vacation, replaced with passive aggressive nightmares. Trying to sort through this mess, remembering faces long gone, wanting just to talk to someone that really gets me, that understands. That would just listen, and tell me its going to all be okay.
Maybe I just need a hug. Maybe I just don’t know. Maybe I need re-diagnosed. It’s complicated yet sadly ironic. Like when I would give money to someone to go cop drugs, and either come back with a “robbery” story, or call me from jail. I would be angry that they wasted my money…but when all I was buying was a lie, every penny was a waste. It’s not like that $100 was spent on anything tangible.
Still, I want out of this place. South Florida holds too many tragedies, too many reminders. I know I shouldn’t let stuff bother me, but when you start avoiding a particular club, just because you might run into someone and their new significant other, what’s the point? Because then I get pissy, want to walk over there and punch a stranger I don’t know because I still can’t 100% admit I flicked the first domino.
So, that’s my day. Short and sweet. Everything is strange, and for today I guess it will have to do. Clean without the serene is far better than dirty and “peaceful.” Think I will try to watch some It’s Always Sunny or something.
“If you’re going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you’re going to be locked up.” – Hunter S. Thompson
Peace, sorry for the lame blog! -MFJ