Good Sound

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Okay. I’ve had 24 hours to adjust to the fact I’m insane. Not really happy about it but okay. I mean, what the fuck else am I gonna say?

I am wrong, my memory is wrong, I’ve been speaking like an ass for a goddamn year. Confirmation came thru this morning in the form of an email from my previous teacher. And I swear it was he who told me! But okay. Down the rabbit hole, lost the mind.

Now I can’t trust myself.

And that makes me sad.

Been having this sitting lump in my stomach. That sorrow/depression feeling I know all too well. The thing that will allow me, once in a while and only for appearances’ sake, to emit a laugh now and then while I watch tv with my bro. But the laugh comes from nowhere and goes nowhere. It doesn’t stay in my body, buzzing and humming and making me feel good. It doesn’t linger on my face, showing the world that yes, I AM actually happy. It dissipates. Disappears. Melts back into that lump and returns to my stomach.

I feel very alone. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Hi, doc, my brain is now telling me things that aren’t real and giving me memories that never happened. Got a pill for that? That’s pretty much a straight to the looney bin do not pass go scenario, isn’t it? All I can do right now is start again. Assume I’ve made other mistakes, because if I make such a big mistake in verbs I must be making similar mistakes elsewhere. A, B, C.

What I really want to do is crawl under a rock somewhere and just ignore it all. Everything. The language, exercise, my writing, my music, people – even my brother – everything. Fuck it all. I feel wounded in a way that doesn’t show and it seems no one else understands. And I can’t make people understand this, I guess. I try. No one gets it.

Days like this and I do wonder if I don’t suffer a touch of autism. I get so frustrated and upset and it seems the more I try to make myself understood the further I get from any sort of understanding. All I can do – and I do mean the only thing I can do – is get myself under control. That could take days. Weeks. I never know. I’m sad and angry and I can’t communicate it at all IRL. But I do know from experience that if I continue to bang my head against the wall I’ll just wind myself up more. I HAVE to walk away.

And yes, in the past when I’ve walked away I’ve been called all sorts of names. I’ve been told I’m a quitter, a slacker, a loser for doing it. Even a stuck up princess that expects the world to turn on her desires. Doesn’t matter if I get myself under control and come back to it; the fact that I must walk away at some point has always garnered me shame. So I’m ashamed to walk away, even tho I know if I don’t things will get worse. Double bind. Got a lot of those in my life.

I fucking hate people sometimes. How they are so callous and mean. Never had anyone say to me Yeah, Beeps, it’s okay. Take ten minutes or a day or whatever you need. It’ll still be here. A little break won’t hurt anything. No. It’s always shame you for this, shame you for that. Peer pressure to make you say and do things you don’t want to say and do. Push, push, push. I push myself enough, thank you. Don’t need YOUR hand on my ass, too. Now I got people looking at me like I’ve really lost it – what do you mean you got such a basic thing wrong? What do you mean you don’t want to participate now? What do you mean? Why? Why? And I tell them and they STILL look at me that way.

I feel I got no one on this. Nobody. Even my home doesn’t feel safe; my only option seems to be to curl up inside myself, to become that leaden thing down in my stomach.

Don’t want to. Really fighting it. Think I might need the release of a good cry, but I’m afraid if I start I won’t be able to stop.

Now, I know (intellectually) all I’m trying to do. I realize everything is coming to a head – lowered calorie intake, increased activity, withdrawal from smoking, sustained pressure on the language front. I know this is one of those times I need to take a few things in stride. Cut myself some slack. Be okay with fucking up because I’ve put myself physiologically in a topsy turvy situation. Yeah. I’ve got just enough clarity I can occasionally lift my head out of the shit and see that. Can’t see the other side of this, tho. Can’t see a shore or a boat or anything. Feels like I’m gonna be here forever. That adds to my panic and anxiety. Calmly laying everything out for me to examine helps for a few minutes. It doesn’t get me through the day.

Gonna go out and take a walk. It’s not my walk day. It is, in fact, a down day for exercise. Doesn’t matter. Thought I was getting up around 7, too, only to find that no, I forgot about Daylight Savings time and it was really only 6. Shit happens. Besides, what the fuck am I supposed to do today? I don’t want to do language – I still feel too burned and unsure of myself. I don’t want to sit and play games; feels stupid and time wasting to me. Don’t really want to do anything. If I could become a rock today, I would. Just a rock. No thoughts, no feelings, no nothing. Just sit there. For fucking ever.

Birds would shit on me. Rain would wash me clean. I’d take the feet of all that walked over me and never break. Everything would just pass over me, and I’d still remain intact.

Sounds good. Guess I’m looking for a place called Good Sound.

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