Peripheral (nineveh_rains) wrote,

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What the hell is wrong with me?

I wonder how many times I've titled my journal entries with this? I think that it's just life, and it's scary. There are so many changes happening right now. So many things I have to keep organised in my head. People I miss and people I'm going to miss. And these crazy fucked up dreams don't help. Apparently the more REM you get, the smarter you are, but I swear this shit is killing me.. I feel so brain dead when I awake and I haven't really been sleeping much at all for the past month. If life scares me so much, why can't I hide from it anymore? Most likely a "wake up and smell the roses/coffee" sorta deal I guess. So many new experiences as well. I think that the surface excitement smothers the fear so that even I can't face it and then in moments such as these it sneaks out and grips me. Just goes to show that even our emotions don't play fair. Now I know what my uncle meant when he said he'd stopped writing while on meds. It's so easier to be creative and deep and meaningful when you're depressed.

I just want to say here that it meant something to me when we could talk about heaven while lying beneath the sheets and that the day can go on and we share our seperate lives in single moments and glimpses of memory. You're good conversation; I always have something to tell you about and you introduce me to things I would not seek out on my own. You are good company and maybe in some ways a safe zone. I feel safe with you, even after the ordeal I went through to get to where we are now: equilibrium. I see you as I want to, and I can see you the way you see yourself. You don't believe me that you underappreciate yourself, but I think that possibly everyone does. You say I treat you well, but at the same time, I think you put up with a lot from me while I try to cope with my disorder, and even though I've improved muchly, I still have moments such as now when I act stupid. I like to be able to bring some happiness to your life because of the things you've done for me. This isn't about heroism or anything like that, it's just returning the favour and showing graitude.

I don't know why writing helps. It sometimes seems like a form of purging, but I think maybe it's just a form of organising.
I don't want to study. My brain tells me that I should, because it will help me get a better grade, but my mind says that I passed the midterm without studying, what do I need to study for? For now I am studying only for the lack of anything better to do. More than likely I will fall asleep while reading, and wake up depressed for sleeping my life away.

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