1:03 a.m. - 2006-11-06
Logorrhea
I'll start again. The start of my third week in the PPHP looms. I'm just starting to feel my legs underneath myself again. I'm also really, really scared for it to end. I know I can't stay forever. At a certain point I have to take responsibility for my wellness, I'm still not sure if I can. The medication has stripped me of my libido and I don't even really care. I guess I should, but I don't. Sleep is a dream of my past. An inside joke since I almost never remember my dreams. I've tripled my Ambien and Lunesta and they both have started to lose their effectiveness. I'm unconscious more than sleeping lately. At least the feeling of hyperactivity at the base of my skull from the increased Zoloft has abated somewhat. Not to mention the Xanax or the Wellbutrin. I feel like I could start my own pharmacy. Maybe that explains my newfound mania for sweets. Candy corn, Hershey's S'mores, Little Debbie's chocolate cakes, Hostess Orange cupcakes, a whole package of cherry sweet rolls. Oodles of Mountain Dew and Cherry Coke. Taco Bell and Wendy's. I buy the Sunday paper every week and wind up throwing out perhaps 95% of it. Of the remainder I can't really deal with most of it. Ads for things I might want but cannot buy, ads for movies I really want to see, but not by myself, music reviews that make me want to download a few tracks to see if I like it, until I remember that I only have dial up access now. I've gotten a bunch of CDs and DVDs from the library, but there is almost a mania in my having to have this ultimate collection of music. Collecting anything at this age should be over. I should be beyond needing to surround myself with things that I attatch personal feelings to instead of developing real relationships with actual human beings. Love seems as far away as it has ever been. I can't even remember what it felt like. I thought I was headed that way with Danielle, but that was only in my head. Which seems like where I am condemned to spend the rest of my miserable life. Judged unfit for polite society Mr. Morrison was sentenced to life imprisonment inside his own addled brain. No possibility of parole. How Soon is Now? is the greatest song. I just heard it for the first time again yesterday. The boy I was at 17 is still the man I am at 36. How sad. "A shyness that is criminally vulgar". Two and a half weeks til Thanksgiving. Still no invite. Don't know what to think about this one. I'm sure I'll go especially if the Canadian cousins come to town. I've received precisely one call about my van. And he was just some shyster trying to sell me more adspace. What a waste of a human being, selling ads to people who have already paid for ads in more reputable papers! I'd sooner starve. Not bloody likely. I've got to get together with Social Security and Jewish Vocational Services about finding work and most hopefully section 8 housing. I need to live on my own for the first time in my life. Maybe it'll lose some of the horror I have given it. There are people out there to help me, I just need to find the ability to ask for it. I'm spiralling deeper into debt living the way I am. Without the $5 voucher from Beaumont, I'm going to be back to peanut butter sandwiches as my sole sustenance. And cans of Mountain Dew. Maybe the occasional Tater Tot!
I do have a toaster oven after all! Borat was the funniest movie I've seen in such a long time. I was crying and choking in "the" scene. The rest of the movie rocks, too. Three plans were made, only one was carried out. 33%. Not really something to be proud of... I'll do better next weekend. I simply have to.
