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I Talk You Listen. Or Don't. ... July 19, 2004
the interesting shit that is getting dredged up out of my consciousness what with all this insomnia and all is freaking amazing. maybe it's just brain damage but i feel like my writing (not here) has been getting really good in the last couple weeks. the bad part is that i can't sleep. i was so fucking delighted when i arrived at my apartment this evening and actually felt REALLY TIRED. i went to bed early for me (1 or 2 am ish) fully expecting to not wake up for at least 24 hours. i woke up 2 hours later at 4 am, and was unable to get back to sleep. yay.
when the doc's office opens here in about 45 mins, i am going down there to see if a can get a walk in appointment. i don't want them to drug me for my recently mounting mental problems just because i don't want to lose the GOOD side effects with the bad ones. i don't really like using perscription drugs to solve problems, anyways. once you get used to being under the effects of the drugs they perscribe you, it can make you dependant upon the system to continue to provide that substance that "normalizes" you. you get used to interacting with others while under the influence of this drug, they get used to interacting with you, and if you suddenly find that the system is no longer supplying the substance anymore, and all your social interactions are partially based upon how this drug makes you, then suddenly, you can't function. things crumble around you.
anyways, who the hell decides what is "normal" and what is not? i don't want my experiences, memories or interactions with others to be based upon the fact that i am drugged and, being the square peg that i am, being forcefully pounded into the round hole of "normalcy". what's wrong with variation and differences between people? if every person in a society was "normal", whatever THAT's supposed to be, would the society as a whole be mentally healthy? i doubt it somehow.
and anyways, i am already dependant enough on the system as a type-1 diabetic. still, i just can't allow society to randomly attach itself to me. in my own imaginings, society, culture, "the system" is something of a monsterous parasite, always eager to attach another feeder to your soul. i admit, i depend on the system for my very life. without it, i would have no supply of insulin. it would be a matter of weeks before i would be dead. i have to allow the parasite to drink a little if i want to live, sort of like in the old days when they bled people with leeches in order to cure illness. kind of like that, only the parasite that is saving me doesn't want my blood. no no no. still, drugs like insulin that treat bodily ills aside, i see psychiatric drugs to be something of a last resort. no more feeding on my soul than is absolutly necessary for my survival. right now, being a little crazy is not killing me. i just am not liking this nearly 24-7 mental ache that is throbbing in my skull as a result of my insomnia. i hope the doctors don't have to give me a brain overhaul. i like my brain and i don't want to trade it in for the latest well-adujusted model just yet. i just want some tips on how to get to sleep and maybe a couple free samples of a mild sedative type thing so i can be unconscious for a while.
see, it's not the rest part of sleeping that i am missing, it's the unconsciousness. i am trapped in this world of reality. now i know what it feels like to be really suicidal. not the kind of suicidal where you tell all your friends and one of them comes over and talks you out of it. this is the kind where they find you dead the next morning, having taken a bath with your toaster or tried to tie your neck to the ceiling fan the night before. really suicidal, where you all you want is to die alone. where no one ever quite understands why you did it and that has a lot to do with why you did it. (THEY didn't notice anything wrong with you last time THEY saw you...) i, like the person who truely wishes to end it all, merely want an escape from this shitty life. i used to find some refuge and consolation for the pain of living in my dreams, but my dreams have been MIA as of late.
(an insomniac's prayer)
ohpleaseohpleaseohplease, deity type figure, won't you hear my plea? my head is fucked up, backing up up like an overflowing septic tank full of mental-shit. all i want is oblivion, to be allowed to give my head it's nightly flushing. give me sleep, give me death, just give me some form of unconsciousness so i can let my tired soul have a rest. i need it or i am going to die, even if i have to do it myself, you fucker.
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