Killing time on the chemical killing floor

This post is a celebration of me being able to write my crappy little blog for over a year now, I started on transitionpgh in July of 2011 and have been writing regularly since then. This post is for me and is not thoughts on my current state, but thoughts on what has brought me to my current state… I guess you could say a tribute… wait… that’s not right… A memorial… that’s more like it…

Killing time on the chemical killing floor blues – chriscondello

I’m ready to fight my way out of this hole, my mind is alive but my body is dead… As long as I sit here my legs want to run away from me, yet the moment I stand up my knees tremble underneath of me. When I lay down my mind goes to another place, the second I get up to go their… my mind lays down again. When my eyes are open they long to be closed, my whole existence seems to revolve around the seemingly endless pursuit of a feeling that I can’t find anymore.

Waking up in the morning used to mean something to me, now it is just a continuation of the hell that is not sleeping. I keep noticing instances of deja-vu, only to realize that it is just feelings and emotions re-emerging from the cess pool that is my mind… God are they awful… How can you people live with these… these feelings? I have more important things to worry about, like feeling normal… even though I can’t seem to remember what normal feels like anymore…

So as I lay awake in bed at 4AM uncontrollably rubbing my ankles together, I feel as if I have just finished a ten-year marathon… Perpetually rolling to the right in five-minute intervals is enough to drive someone insane… now imagine never finding the cool side of the pillow, and never finishing a single thought because something feeds you a new one every twenty seconds. Some of the best thoughts I have ever had werre when I was in this state, I just couldn’t get up enough energy to record them.

I will never forget the taste in my mouth, it”s like a mouth full of pennies… an almost indescribable taste that I would have to assume is what death tastes like. I know eating or drinking something would help it temporarily, but that would involve energy that can’t be sacrificed due to its prior involvement in the scheming of the aquisition of medicines that will both heal me and kill me. Besides I haven’t been able to eat anything lately without having to watch the instant replay a few minutes later, the penalties that will be assessed over the next few days will account for ten years of fouls.

I don’t think I will ever really understand the things that went thru my mind during this period of my life, or why I kept making the decision to have to go thru this as many times as I have. I always felt like it wasn’t my fault, that something made me keep doing it… that’s bullshit, I made the decision… every time… expecting different results… every time… like I was going to get it write this time… talk about defining crazy…

This post is for me… not you… me… This is to remind me of why I am me… to remind me of who stayed by my side through ALL of my bullshit… a reminder that blood is thicker than water… a reminder that my girlfriend of 7 years saw through my bullshit, and never lets me forget that bullshit…

To remind me that my current life is a great one,..

Bullshit can make more than a plant grow – chriscondello

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