Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Talking to my skull isn't helping any more but I'll keep doing it anyway.


Years ago people would have been hanged or lobotomized for talking to themselves but then Froid came along and explained that it was perfectly fine to do this. 
I feel a little less crazy. I talk to my skull and penguin all the time; they never answer. I never get any further but that point, but at least it’s out. But it’s not helping anymore. 
I’ve been off the anti depressants too long and yes, I do need them. I know that now. But I told my mother and my doctor everything was fine. Joe is the only one who knows nothing is fine - it’s far from it. 
I can’t seem to grasp anything any more. I can barely write, I can’t think by this haze of hopelessness. I hate my job and I hate my course at school. I just want to know I’m going somewhere; I don’t want to be bored. 
I feel lonely because I keep pushing people away. I hate a lot and love too little. I never live near the ones I like. My life is the same dull thing : school , home , work. It all goes into a pattern that I hate. 
I don’t think I can carry this in my head and on my heart and chest any longer. 

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