What Brought You Here?

Saturday, December 28, 2002

4:36 pm
I feel like shit pate on a crisp. I have been thinking about That-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Contemplated, lest I lose my status as the most fucked up self-destructive person on the face of the earth who actually isn't suicidal. My Girlfriend and I are a my mom's. I have so much work to do, to get ready to write my candidacy paper next term, find out whether it's even possible to finish the work for my Old Church Slavonic Class for last term and spent way too much money on the trip to Florida and am trying on and off to quit smoking. Apparently I am a drug addict. Oh well. I guess that's the 25 percent of me that's not perfect and she'll have to work with.

Trying/not trying to quit smoking. Put a patch on for several hours, go zoinks, rip it off, and drive for a pack of cigarettes. I will quit again after this pack.

The effexor is making my body do things I don't like, like disembodying my arms from the rest of me and making my head, legs, and arms jerk violently at untoward intervals. Hurrah I'm off the Zoloft. Boo I have to take buspar again to control the Twitch. Boo that life sucks and I am depressed and stressed and left the fated message on my psych's voice mail which will likely result in more effexor which will result in more crippling headaches and twitching and why, why, why, why do I have to go through all of this? I'm in my mom's big beutiful house with my caring adorable loving girlfriend and I wish I could just curl up in a ball and cry alone forever or as long as it takes.

I hate myself for this.

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