… Pathetic “cry for help”

… Pathetic “cry for help”

 Months ago, I started to cache knockout doses (Relpax 40&80mg x2, codeine 15mg/paracetamol 500mg x4, Phenergan 25mg x4, Dozile x4, 200mg ibuprofen x4, Tramol x4, Lyrica 300mg x2, Endep 25&50mg x3, melatonin x3) of meds around my room & my outside smoking area, in preparation (how mortified I would be, to get to the appointed date but be too broke to fill scripts!).

Two days ago I combined all of them & stared at the pile for a long time before I put it away. Since then I’ve been existing in my usual pointlessness, interspersed with staring at the bottle in front of me. 
Last night I poured them all out & thought about taking them. I eventually put them away, but right now I’ve been awake for 10 minutes & I have the bottle in hand & I’m simultaneously wanting to take them & wanting to be talked out of taking them.

It’s way ahead of time, but it’s starting to feel like I’m going to bail early. 

…Free Lunch

…Free Lunch

Dear People To Whom I Am Related

Yes, I am to be knowing the words and where-if to be using same. No, I do NOT want to edit your book/thesis/Craigslist ad for free, or research business contacts for a vague/unspecified possible future hypothetical maybe reward. 

No, you may not break an 18-month silence by attempting smarmy buttering up, giving up, admitting you’d like my help & then call it a favour.

 

… Perusal of Diaries

I’ve been going back through my diaries, starting age 11. Weeping for that poor child who was already lost, and angry, and under pressure to lose weight, and confused about cultural identity, and socially awkward.  

To that child, I want to say:

Relax. 

None of these fellow students’ opinions mean anything, and you’ll never see them again anyway. 

You’ll learn down the road that your understanding of what it is to “be Australian” is flawed: you either are or you aren’t, and nobody else’s definition has to apply. 

You’ll be ecstatic when you learn of the worldwide TCK networks: these are your people. 

Please: be happy in the moment. Stop analysing. Stop wailing about the inherent unfairness of life and learn how to work with it. 

Learn to eat within reason. Tell someone how unhappy you are. You’re screaming at innocent parties when you could be using that energy to fight for your future. 

Learn how to deal with unrequited “love”, so that when you’re 35 you’re not still trailing after uninterested males trying to get their attention. 

So tired

I’m tired of being tired.
I’m sick of being sick.
All but my inner circle
Seem to think I’m thick.

I’m tired of futile input.
I’m sick of doctors, all.
Even the inner circle
Seem to think I’m weak.

I’m tired of watching life
go by, of sickness being all.
Who are we, really, when
Hope has left the ball?

I’m tired of being tired;
Sick of being sick.
I thought I used to be someone,
But even I now know I’m not.

Tired.
Sick.
Existential agonies.
Futility.
Resignation.

I’m done.