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The last few days have been rough, friends. There was lots of neurological disruption in my head, creating a dream-like existence of fear and craziness.
An unnamed gay-filled friend, who knuckle-sandwiched me in the back at a movie once, described my condition in accurate detail: It was as if your entire essence of being was stripped away and all that remained was demented frailty.
Further, same poetic friend explained: You was like, “I think I should go off my meds.” At the height of a mental crisis. I was like, you need to eat.
But don’t worry, friends. Off medications, I did not go. I had a consultation yesterday and new medications were consumed as greedily as the KFC chicken I had for dinner last night. Yum.
This Medicated Lady is thinking irrationally again.
I’ve been considering a diet consisting only of those flavored ice pops
especially the blue ones
the ones I like the least
No one but me looks forward to a psychotic break
It occurred to me that I’m tired of being medicated
tired of being in need of medication
tired of being in need
tired of being
Right is what’s right
right as opposed to wrong
right as opposed to left
right as opposed to write
write as opposed to rite
It makes sense.
- If you have to use Aspercreme on sore muscles, wash and rewash your hands. Once or twice is not good enough, because should the icy-hot fire somehow get around your what-not area, it will burn for hours and you will be miserable.
- If you haven’t already done so, just get on with it.
- Eat chips and chocolate.
- Drink regular Coke and Pepsi.
- Go to your bathroom stall at work and take out the book you’ve been trying to finish for weeks and go ahead and read a couple of pages per trip. You can make special trips. This will make you especially happy with feelings that you have duped everyone.
- Don’t hesitate to sleep. Defend your sleep privileges to the death. If you have to tell the Gays they are too stressful to be around right now, so be it. You’re their Princess; they will surely forgive you.
- Lay out.
- Jump in random pools. Or at least imagine jumping in pools irrationally over a period of no less than 5 hours of constant “I should jump in a pool” loops running in your head.
- Find an Air Force John. He will not have the energy to blow you off. He will want to cuddle with you. Except that maybe he only responded because he’s intoxicated and watching “WifeSwap” when he’s a 26-year-old military man. Anyhow, he will respond if prompted and offer distraction, if not frustration and perplexation.
- Never mind if “perplexation” is a word. It should be. Own it.
- Even if you know you will have to write about it again sometime, keep your darkness at bay. It’s the only way to keep from crying racking sobs every day.
- Do not think about your dead aunt.
- Do not think about your impending summer program.
- Do not worry about tan lines.
- Recognize raisins are good for you.
- Stay conscious for only mere minutes of time until drifting off into something as close to peace as you get.
Here’s how on-the-same-page poeticgrin and I are.
Medicated Lady. This is the same conversation we just had.
medicatedlady: What do you like to eat?
medicatedlady: I love cheeseburgers. What are you talking about?
This was our conversation.
Him (yesterday): you paint me as such an evil person
Me: what are you talking about? that post was a tribute to you.
Him: i have no idea what you’re talking about so I cannot tell you what you think I was talking about. I could not be bothered to scroll down and read the message I wrote to you yesterday. Henceforth, clearly you are crazy.
Me: Sigh. (I am forced to cut and paste his email)
Him: Cheezeburgerz are da bomb.
Dearest reader, if you have no idea what we’re talking about, we apparently do not, either.
a dust cloud
in sunlight and darkness
you wanted to be unsettled, disturbed
and so you are
With words, I want to bring forth tangible evidence of the bile lurking inside, luring me to death, over and over again. I feel pain, and I like it. I feel pain, and it’s unbearable. Then, I feel nothing. And repeat.
The next step is a “mood stabilizer,” which seems like an awfully late game play. Perhaps this might have been helpful on the front end. They add stabilizers when you’ve become “hard to treat.” No joke. Treatment-resistant depression, it’s called, as if it’s a cockroach that endures just because it can. It feels like depression is stronger than me, and it’s winning. Everyone tells me depression doesn’t last forever, but in some rare cases, it does. If it saturates your life and personality long enough, it’s a permanent condition. A terminal condition.
youth is a deathtrap
we all fall into
I was crazy once
The birds flew around my head
Nested in my hair
You made me like this
You made me insane
The peptwat inside screams
Sounds like a little old lady in heat
Time ticks slowly, quickly
I look for you
Know you are the one who’s insane
Just wish they’d make shampoo
That would drive bluejays out