When some people feel pain, they tend to intensify it by going over the top (this is when it’s driven by anger. Anger and pain make a perfect couple, and they reject any form of control. Although both are a huge part of you, they don’t necessarily protect you as your cells do.
Anger and pain are wild, but secretly they are disguised as Neil Gaiman’s Despair, and you know what she looks like. (However, I still have a crush on her brother.)
What is it that my friends think I’m naïve and unable to speak for myself? It makes me feel like some loser who can’t take care of herself.
It’s saddening when friends think you’re incapable of life like you know nothing about the world. You know that they want you to see the bright things in life, but they have no clue how little you care. I tend to think (but wouldn’t admit) that I don’t need anyone’s help.
Here, the undeniable truth is, I need my family. I don’t care about the rest – no. I need my family. Not you.
But I don’t want to need them.
I want them to need me and tell me so.
That dependent wreck speaks.
I want to tell my mother that there is a lump in my arm; I don’t know what it is, but it’s sore. However, I don’t want her to worry.
I want to tell my family how often I cry when I think about them. I just don’t want them to worry.
Before my parents arrive next week, I need to lose some weight. I don’t want my mum to say to me, “You’ve put on weight.” And I will blame work for making a regular gym visit impossible. I also have to work on my facial expression. I no longer look like the me I was last summer.
And how much this place is tearing me apart, I won’t leave just yet. I will continue collecting experience to find something better in the future…maybe at home. Besides, this is the most independent I’ve been. I will feel good about this in the future.
While this country here is falling apart, I will inevitably fall apart with it, but my motivations won’t. These are the only things I care about and my family. Not you, not anyone else.
You understand shit—
When Dick said that people who aren’t in touch with reality are insane, I wondered how many people are actually not insane. There are a lot of them—all of them around me. Even the good actors are insane on the inside. If a good actor can feign his behaviour on the outside and adapt to all these social conventions, he knows how reality works. Therefore, he is not insane.
Again, you understand shit—
When I think about how year after year, I have to think of a new solution to save myself, I immediately get a headache. Becoming more and more sensitive on the health front doesn’t make it any easier to cope with stress. Each time it’s heavy–stress knows its way around.
Two years ago, it attacked her kidney and last year, it gave her rosacea, leading her to start on antibiotics in September.
Additionally, green tea had kept her cheerful for three months. But no matter what you consume, it’ll lose effect at one point. And she already mentioned that she was running out of ideas. She never thought she’d be capable of meditation, which is why she always said it was her last resort. (The gym has always helped to de-stress, but work has messed up her workout schedule.) So here she is, reconsidering the last and only option to save herself.
I can’t say I’m entirely with it, let alone in the mood for it, but it’s not the time to touch the sickle yet.
There is so much to do.
So much to do.
I realised that Ellen’s reality has become more transparent and conceivable than my own. I’m sitting here at the computer, consuming my antibiotics (as I am not as strong as I thought I was. And that’s because I let something bad happen to me). Here, at the university library, I’m an alumnus pretending to be a student working on her big project. I admire those that are doing their PhDs here.
I have started viewing people as mere flesh. If our cheeks touch, I feel nothing but skin. And I used to feel so much more than this. When I see other people touch each other, I notice something happen, but I no longer understand it.
That was the worst Christmas and New Year’s. Being alone is good, but not when your creative mind has slipped, and you’re left with nothing to produce on the white sea. Then an inflow of emptiness devours you. There was too much reality to consume – the sound of firecrackers, the flicker of Christmas lights and then coming to realise that you want to be with your family. And for a moment, I understood these people.
Life is only hard when you’re not busy.
There are many friends with needs. And I don’t know what I can give. Watching how friends replace me, I don’t seem to encounter any disappointment on my end. When have I ever been there or given them anything? Many people out there are similar, people who don’t like to be needed. So, maybe this is why you don’t resent your friends for replacing you. Being a bad friend makes rejection easier. Things can be so simple.
Since the pills slowed me down a lot, I’m now able to focus on every thought and breath. Maybe I should succumb to my last resort and save myself. The last time I was surrounded by this calm atmosphere in my head was the first week I started consuming green tea regularly. If good is within me, then it is speaking now. The sickle needs to wait.
My last year’s hero says that I can’t ever transfer wisdom and diagnosis straightforwardly into fiction. But I have to make something great out of them by myself. I only just understood what he meant.
Is this when antibiotics talk?
Slowing down the thinking process is the key.