Weird, I thought I had posted since the 17th.

first of all, I feel like I’m writing with tiny pieces of chalk on the wall of the grand canyon. What’s the point.

and also: fuck everyone.

and fuck sharing a bedroom with people who are loud sleepers. And fucking being the one who has to do something about it. In this case, become addicted to a sleeping pill. Separate bedrooms, people. They exist for a reason. What I want to know is why don’t you have separate bedrooms from the start? What makes us BECOME unable to stand being in the same room with someone while we sleep? Did I turn into a light sleeper? Did he start snoring louder? (YES)
I don’t care. I just want to sleep through the night without drugs. What loss of intimacy? We sleep with a four year old between us. Shut up.

the adult fish seem to be gone, but the babies are growing. I didn’t expect this, because I read that the adults would eat the babies. Maybe something else ate the adult fish before they could murder their young.

Speaking of murdering young, did I mention that I hate everyone? Maybe that’s why no one reads this blog.

and also: if I don’t call you, it’s because I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING GOOD TO SAY. I’d like to just get through this quietly and (semi) privately.

Either the new medication is not working, has not begun working yet, or makes me worse. Example: for two days this week I was unmedicated (well, un mood-stabilized). Two decent, nap-free, sugar free days. When my therapist asked me on Wednesday what had made me consider hospitalization the previous week, I couldn’t remember. I simply had no idea and could not call back the feelings.

But I decided, hey, let’s give ye old mood stabilizer a shot because to tell you the truth we can’t afford for me to have another manic period, and here I am two days back on it and I HATE EVERYONE and EVERYTHING. Oh, for kicks I can’t stop eating sugar. Awesome.

My mother called me a Debbie Downer when I was in New Mexico, because I wouldn’t give her a straw. Maybe she wasn’t so far off the mark.