If using acid is the closest you can get to schizophrenia without actually being insane, then withdrawal is the closest you can get to being bipolar without having the real deal. I'm not joking...it's hard to concentrate enough to even type this thing up now. One moment I'll be ecstatic and happy that my life is changing--I'm going to be a teacher and caretaker, I'm kicking my habits, I'm actually going to function as an involved member of an organisation again, woohoo! Vale la pena!--and then the nausea and insomnia (all things that end in 'a', especially when dealing with medicine, are awful) slaps me in the face and I crash into a shivering, irritable lump of misery. I'm trying not to complain a lot right now, but not sleeping really sucks when its coupled with a total digestive backup. It's not even nausea...it's your stomach backflipping and trying to crawl out your esophagus whenever you smell something cooking.
Christ, I miss being normal--or at least my kind of normal--when I could windowpane and lubricate myself with acid and alcohol to the point in which I was alone with my thoughts. Will I still be able to continue being a psychonaut, or has it closed off forever...that's the only thing I'm good at, damnit, except for being a disc jockey! I loved it, all of it, even though it was selfish and twisted and masochistic and antisocial...you learn so much about everything when you use acid...it doesn't matter if its good or bad. You learn, and I don't want to forget it all now that I'm sober.
I hope this rapid-cycling of mine doesn't scare the kids. Jack and Jill...they still seem to hate my guts but they aren't actually that bad. Even though they aren't related they could be siblings; they stick together and watch each other's backs--I honestly think they sleep in shifts, one watching over the other, because I've never seen them both resting at once. Whatever happened to them in D9 and D10 made them this close, I think...maybe that's not an exactly good or an exactly bad thing. They've got good heads on their shoulders--they could easily learn anything they wanted to learn, no problem. In the long run, it's up to them if they want to start trusting me and learn about things; in the same way I guess it's up to me if I want to break the habit.
Christ, I miss being normal--or at least my kind of normal--when I could windowpane and lubricate myself with acid and alcohol to the point in which I was alone with my thoughts. Will I still be able to continue being a psychonaut, or has it closed off forever...that's the only thing I'm good at, damnit, except for being a disc jockey! I loved it, all of it, even though it was selfish and twisted and masochistic and antisocial...you learn so much about everything when you use acid...it doesn't matter if its good or bad. You learn, and I don't want to forget it all now that I'm sober.
I hope this rapid-cycling of mine doesn't scare the kids. Jack and Jill...they still seem to hate my guts but they aren't actually that bad. Even though they aren't related they could be siblings; they stick together and watch each other's backs--I honestly think they sleep in shifts, one watching over the other, because I've never seen them both resting at once. Whatever happened to them in D9 and D10 made them this close, I think...maybe that's not an exactly good or an exactly bad thing. They've got good heads on their shoulders--they could easily learn anything they wanted to learn, no problem. In the long run, it's up to them if they want to start trusting me and learn about things; in the same way I guess it's up to me if I want to break the habit.
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