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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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to be finished later
Okay, yeah. So, I couldn't actually leave the house again today. This makes a week spent with minimal contact with the outside world. I guess I should examine exactly why I find myself unable to deal with the outside world, but I'm not really at that point. I just want the whole thing to go away. So, then, I upped my meds. Yes, I know. I'm not a stupid person. I'm not so ridiculously out of touch that I don't know that whacking up the meds without consulting my doctor first is a bad idea. And yet, I don't really, you know, care much about remaining not stupid, not so ridiculous. I just want some relief. Relief from what, you ask. Well, there are all these things. Things which I find myself unable to talk about to anyone. They're not even really big things, they're just things that I am embarrassed or ashamed of, or don't want to deal with. And they're not big things, and that makes them that much more embarrassing. If they were big things, I could say them and expect that people wouldn't get, all, you know, exasperated with me. Not that anyone fucking cares, really. I mean, I just stay in bed and let people think that I'm a homebody or that I need to disappear now and again for a while. Which is true to some extent, although even that is circular in that...well, that whole self-fullfilling prophecy kind of thing. God. I'm not even sure what that means. It's all related in my head, but I'm not sure that I want to tackle the tangle of it because if I have to let go of it, then what will I have to hold onto? I really, you know. I came across this scrap of paper while cleaning my office, on which I had written a recent conversation that I had with my mother. (Recent meaning sometime in the past year and a half.) We were speaking of my younger brother,
More lies:
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