This is from May 14-15. 

This morning, my mind was so broken, old joints crumbling and no possibility of repair. I was sad. I was heavy. It was so hard to move. A morning of depression. It wasn’t too severe, I didn’t want to hurt myself, but I felt what I call the hate-monster. The part of my mind that hates me was visiting.I felt so shitty about myself. Why. I don’t know. I realized I felt like how I felt living at home, after an altercation with my dad. I did a drawing, of my feelings at those moments. It’s mostly black, blue, and red. Visceral colours. Depression hurts, as the slogan goes. The disintegration of self that is experienced in depression is this aching of ages, an erosion, a pyramid slowly turning to dust, and every ounce that is lost causes a peculiar pain. Like very fine sandpaper, it initially feels nice, but begins to rub too much, back and forth, constant erosion. I tried to go out and walk, but I had to return, the hate-monster made me heavy. I laid on my bed and drew. I then felt better. I slowly lifted myself away from the hate-monster, away from the sandbags and fog. I did my make-up. I watched a lot of Friends. I got dressed. I walked. I was stoned on clonazapam. I bought two notebooks. I had a dark roast coffee and pretzel at Starbucks. Bretzeln. Mmm. Not as good as from Frankfurt, but not bad. Quite oily. What else. Bought necklaces, to take apart and use the beads. I love jewellery making. It is a peaceful way to create. It is simpler than drawing or otherwise. Everything takes effort .Today, the 15th, is like this too, but less so. I think my medication is making me fatigued. I cannot walk very far. I am at Juice and Java, a favourite local cafe. Why am I so exhausted? I think exercise would infact help me. This is true. Why, again this question, why is it hard to do what is good for us? I am stoned. How could I be energetic? I need to sacrifice some energy for peace. Until I revisit meditation. 

On another note, FUCK THIS I HATE BEING CRAZY FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK DON’T TELL ME I’;M NOT CRAZY. I hate that even more, because I know what I experience, and it is fucked up, it is scary and it impedes my life. I hate this. I am tired of this. 


Oh. Today will pass. This hour will pass. Everything will be fine when I step outside. 

About Undecided Pseudonym

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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