Lately

I’ve been in that sort of high-energy depression. You know that sort when you’re all hyper and being impulsive and raging all over the place and hating yourself, wanting to die, finding that people have been gradually removing sharp things from your room. I have no scalpel blades, the obvious choice, nothing like any knives or scissors, not even spare drugs. But I can’t sit still, so I go for a walk. Then I come back and hope I get tired soon. Thing is with this high energy level is I won’t need to sleep, but society dictates I must and so I try. But it just feels like a waste of time. I can’t even describe this mood in terms of music. I guess my closest estimation would be Mindless Self Indulgence, but with more depressing lyrics. It’s like… happiness, sadness and anger at war, with my brain as the battlefield. Any little burst of inspiration is snuffed out before it can become something. Every idea that occurs is immediately scorned and proclaimed worthless. Everything created is instantly destroyed. I am a hive of buzzing thoughts. Each going nowhere, eventually dying, twitching on the floor. Long forgotten and discarded. I am incapable of doing anything productive and not for lack of trying. I’ve reduced myself to child-like brainstorms that will make no sense when I come out of this. Everything seems so futile.

Tomorrow is Doomsday. I think Matt has forgotten. Either that or he’s just utterly insensitive. Or just horny and hasn’t realised that I am sooooo not going to be in the mood tomorrow lunchtime (sorry for that). I think I want to see my notes. I wanna know if they have BIPOLAR scribbled all over them. My doctor thinks I am. I think the counsellor thinks I am… apparently my moods are very similar to how I describe my sister’s. Matt has ‘carefully suggested’ that I might be manic on occasion. To which I said something along the lines of “fuck off” and carried on with whatever it was I was doing. In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t think I’m bipolar. And I’m fairly certain it’s my opinion that counts. Then again, he might be nice and just give me some better drugs and tell me to go away and get on with it. I’ll have fun moaning if he does that. What other possibilities are there… Forgive me for this, don’t feel you have to read it. I’m just ordering my bees before they die. He could say continue as you are and stop wasting my time. He could say let’s get you into some proper therapy. I’m out of ideas now. None look promising. I don’t know what it is that I want out of this. I think I want confirmation that I’m not completely crazy and having a voice in my head is perfectly normal. Ideally.

In other news…
My dad was in hospital all weekend and no one bothered to tell me. He was on intravenous antibiotics because he got an infection round is exit site (for dialysis stuff to get in and out) which could easily developed into peritonitis which is FUCKING DANGEROUS!!! He could have died really fast and I wouldn’t have been there. I’m pissed at them. My family seems to have this culture of not telling each other things that might worry them. Which is fine, but there’s a limit!

It’s chestnut season. Which means I intend to eat a lot of them. It’s like the Allie equivalent of cake. That only comes once a year.

I’m off home this coming weekend. I’m going to see my catses!!!!! YAAAAAYYYY!!!

So erm… yeah… wish me luck xD