Work and works of literature… or lack there of.
I don’t know if I can take it. Everytime I think about it I Panic, struggle to breath tears in my eyes. sheer terror, that I can’t be normal and live life like everyone else. But I don’t think I can. I’m too much inside my own head for that now. I don’t like being away from my bedroom, my computer, my internet, and my online friends for extended periods of time. Just thinking about them is soothing me a little, though the lump in my throat is still there and its still acheing. Sort of like I need to belch but I can’t. The pain seems to move up to my sinuses from time to time aswell.
I really wonder if I should see a Doctor about this.
Oh yeah I was gonna type up some freewriting I did last night. So here it is.
“I don’t want to throw that paper away. It has on it a few brief faded lines, written using a pen that was running out of ink, the words on it were to do with engineering profession on warcraft. I feel depressed when I think about why I don’t want to throw it away. It reminds me of a time in my life that is coming to an end. I move the paper over to my desk, suddenly I get a pang of guilt for moving it away from the papers it was with. I saw my objects left out on the desk for tomorrowand reality comes back. I should be sleeping, but I can’t. Reality is my enemy. It’s pulling me out of my comfort zone and changeing everything, and I’m afraid that im going to lose *edit* someone */edit*cos I won’t get to talk to *edit* this person */edit* as much Lise too and we only just started talking again. This is what I mean, these people are my comfort zone who I talk to when I need things or just somebody to listen and they do it and now reality is pulling us apart. and I can’t help but resent it for that, maybe its strange that I resent reality or that I want to be In a book where my life is guided by someone elses hand. You know in books the friends always stay together so maybe my writer is Vindictive or some such. Now I’m wondering about Richard isn’t it curious that he suddenly dissapeared and how Lise and Rachel get cagey or indestinct when I ask about it. I’m paranoid I know I am. That always seems to go hand in hand with schzophrenia so perhaps I do talk to myself without realising and sometimes I do, but I keep talking anyway, maybe I should go to a hospital or something and ask about some kind of mental health exam”
hows that for messed up eh? I suppose I should be grateful that this has inspired a bit of creativity and willingness to write.
Well I think thats enough crazy for now.
Stay Safe
BP
