With a Sense of Poise and Rationality

"Let's just say I was testing the bounds of reality. I was curious to see what would happen. That's all it was: curiosity.”—Jim Morrison

The ever so mundane ramblings and musings, perhaps the pointless rantings and railings of an existential little nymphet in a constant state of change and transformation, for the sake of hedonism and self-awareness.

"Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to." — Dorian Gray

"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity. He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence."— The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

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With a Sense of Poise and Rationality

Wednesday, May 18, 2011 || 5:50 PM

You know that feeling where you’re there, but you don’t feel like yourself? You wake up in the morning and you say ‘Ok, this is me right now, but this wasn’t me a little while go’. It’s great when the change is for better. It’s when you wake up and realize you haven’t even gone a couple step backwards, but rather somehow went completely off track, when it gets disorienting.

The voices are essentially gone, adding to my disorientation. Funny thing about them too, I’ve always been so consumed with their lives, with the low, though present hum of their existence running in my head, that they kept me busy, keeping anxiety at bay for the most part.

Now it’s all anxiety. Now that my coping mechanism’s gone ‘Lol bbl, kthnxbai’, for the first time, I’m actually alone in my head and it’s not a good feeling.

None of it is me, really. There’s no real external cause. It’s just what lithium can’t really control, and I have no power over, so I'm just waiting a few more days before starting on lamictal.

Still, the medication’s not going to get me anywhere if I don’t make some lifestyle changes, so I’ve been focusing on that.

Every ounce of creativity is gone, so that does strip me from a sense of identity as well. I’m no longer a ‘writer’ because I can’t write, and I’m no longer an ‘artist’, because all I see in a sheet of paper or a new photoshop document is blank space, not the realm of opportunity it used to be.

Lately I’ve just been looking at stuff, collecting pretty photographs for no adequately explored reason, maybe in some vain attempt at gaining some inspiration.

Looking at pretty pictures and jotting down random arts and crafts projects I want to kill time with— strictly ‘copy-from-instructions’ stuff, since the spark’s gone and I can’t think of anything original to do. Maybe being productive or even vaguely competent with my hands in something as absurd as that will get me out of this hole.

Still feel empty and all that jazz, but at least I’m not just sitting around bitching about it. I’m planning things and the like, which for the situation I found myself a few weeks ago is something. It’s progress. It’s baby steps.