Altered Reality

I'm having a minor crisis in my brain. Well, I've been having this crisis, to varying degrees, for years now, but I've fallen back into it rather abruptly and unexpectedly as of late.

I'm back to the unhappy, unmotivated existence that has plagued my development for who knows how long. The past three days have been spent at home, usually in the dark, doing little to nothing. It sounds fantastic, I know, but I hate it. I hate every second of it. And for some reason, I have this idea that by coming on here and writing about it, I will somehow manage to get something accomplished. Maybe even fix the problem. I dunno, maybe I have this idea that someone will read it and suddenly feel so moved for me that they spontaneously transform into my savior or something.

I want to whine and complain about how unhappy I am and how difficult things are for me. I want to lament the fact that I have so few friends and that those that I do have are rarely the caliber that I feel so dependent on or that they just don't have the time to spend doting over me as much as I might like. I want to bemoan this depressing and pointless cycle that I have to go through over and over again.

I know that technically it's not real. My brain, for whatever reason, cannot operate in a stable manner. My apparent reality is altered by chemical imbalances and minor tweaks in structure. Well, that's what I'm supposed to think, anyway, as if it would make me feel any better about it. What is one's reality other than what they experience, though? Reality is a subjective thing that cannot really be universally applied over the entire population. My reality is a dim, unhappy and broken one. One in which I cannot seem to make any true progress and one in which I can't make final decisions, either. I suppose that's a good thing in a way. I would have ended my pointless existence a while ago if I weren't so indecisive, if I weren't so afraid of making my own choices. I still think about such things to this very day. I long for silence, to be able to just float freely without having to worry, without having to think. I would probably follow through with my suicidal imaginings if it weren't for my understanding of what waits beyond this life. If I were to end my life now, I wouldn't just stop being. No, the torment, dissatisfaction and unhappiness would live on as my spirit passed from this world to the next intermediary world. Not only would I be just like I am now, but I would then have to exist forever with the knowledge that I had chosen to end my only chance to really become happy.

I suppose that it wouldn't be so bad, all things considered. I prefer structure and definitiveness. I would at least know for a fact that I would not be able to change. Maybe that would be more tolerable for me than this mortal existence in which there is always that glimmer of hope that maybe things *might* get better, that I *might* discover true happiness. Well, at this point in time, I highly doubt that I'll ever discover it. Chances are that its right in front of me, just waiting to be realized, but I just can't and won't allow myself to. It requires work and change, both being things that are difficult and painful. I've endured so much constant pain and difficulty through my meager existence so far that I just don't want to willingly put myself into even more of it. The prospect of working towards ultimate happiness reinforces some peoples' drive to reach it, but not mine. I'm lazy and I have no faith in myself anymore. I don't believe that I have what it takes to accomplish anything that I want or need to get done. I don't believe that I can find any form of happiness and just take it for what it is.

I put too much emphasis on my friends, I expect from them what I shouldn't. I take perfectly good relationships and destroy them through obsessive behavior and a lack of emotional self control. I dismiss the little things that happen because they aren't the changes I so desperately need. I am impatient and ungrateful. I can't rely on medicine to help me with my problems because I can't take a hiatus from life. Life goes on and I continue to fall farther and farther behind while we try one unsuccessful solution after another. I am a habitual failure and I don't believe that I'll ever be able to change that.

In all honesty, I just want to die and be done with it all. I won't ever be able to take my own life, but I wouldn't have any problem with just passing on in my sleep. To do so peacefully would be fantastic, but with how poorly I sleep anyway, I doubt I would even be allowed that luxury. I just want to be done. I have no purpose left that I can achieve. I won't find the happiness that has eluded me here, back home or anywhere else. I just want to be done and not have to worry about it anymore. I want my life here to be done and my intelligence wiped from existence. Maybe then, in that state of nothingness, I will finally find peace?

Strange Things are Afoot

Has anyone ever had the experience in which you lose the drive to do basic self maintenance things? I'm at that point for some reason, and it's really weirding me out. Some context: I hold personal hygiene to an incredibly important level in my life. I hate the feeling of grossness that comes from not taking an somewhat excessive amount of care of myself for even a short amount of time. Most of this maintenance involves taking showers, which I take at least once a day, depending on how extraordinarily hot it is in this blasted state. Now, lately I've been having this very strange sensation of drivelessness that  is even creeping into my holy sanctum of personal cleanliness. The past several weeks, I've had the experience where I will be getting ready to get in the shower, and then I suddenly feel like.... Meh. I'll do it later. What the heck? Creeping me out, man.

Timing

So I've finally found it. Finally, I've discovered that thing that could very well change my life. There is only one thing that can really do that, after all, and I've put enough thought into the situation to be certain of that. There is a problem, though: It's not mine. I've tasted the effects and felt the potential for improvement, but it seems that this one is not the one, at least, not at this moment. There is a small consolation prize, however. If what I've felt has come from something that was not meant for me, the effect of that which is to be mine will be so much the greater. It's a happy thought, but only does so much to stem the frustration of the instant. It's a complicated situation that is driving me up the wall. Oh well, I suppose I'll get through it all the same. I've not killed myself from frustration yet, so it's unlikely that it will occur here, either. That's good.

If this makes no sense to you, that's okay. It is what is on my mind and it doesn't necessarily require comprehension. Even I don't fully understand it.

Writing Names

So, while sitting here on Sunday morning doing absolutely nothing - my body decided to kick me out of bed after only three hours... I blame the medicine - I began re-experimenting with my 1-to-1 coding translation of the English arabic system to my own made up one. Well, that got boring pretty fast. My characters don't flow as well. A number of them look a lot more like Ancient glyphs than modern letter or letter equivalents. Once I was sufficiently bored of writing out peoples' names in my system, I began writing them out in English, too. And here is the point to this post: I have noticed that I have a very distinct way of writing various names. 

My own name is always written in sub-caps and slightly italicized and sloppy, it is a slowed down version of my signature, after all. If I happen to like the person whose name I am writing or spend a good deal of time thinking about them (you all know who you are), they tend to come out neatly written, squared and centered. The rest tend to be my more typical fast and blocky text, considering most have no great meaning to me. (Yes, that does sound a little stranger than I wanted.)

I amuse myself greatly from time to time with the small random things that I notice. It's always nice when there's someone else to share it with who then can laugh at and with me about it. Like the chicken-related dinner I had last night tasting suddenly and inexplicably like corn on the cobb... That's you, Mari!! :)

One last thing, the greatest and stupidest thing I've ever said: "That's what was thinking in my head." Ah, cognitive dissonance and confusion created from lack of medicine... If it weren't for the headaches and mood swings, I'd love it. xD