Now lithium is added to my cocktail of drugs. So basically Seroquel 4x a day, 3 cymbaltas of whatever dose, 500mgs of depakote (used to be a 1000mg but i was literally a zombie) and now lithium 3x a day.
“how the fuck do you remember all this?” the bf asks
well, my dear, it is simple. when i don’t take this or that whatever – either everyone yells at me (you included of course) or i get “padded-wall quiet-room psycho” as you so lovingly call it. But mostly, i am constantly reminded to “not forget to take (insert drug here)”
i don’t think i have had a conversation with my mom or therapist without hearing “did you take your meds?” or “don’t forget…blah blah blah.”
god. i’m so numb. luckily i used to feel enough so that i can act the part. oh happy. oh joy. oh pain. oh whatever. im usually just empty and try to fill the void with as many people telling me “i care about you” or “i love you” as possible.
but my void is endless and people’s time is not. so what. repeat it. i love you. i love you. i love you. i will never get tired of hearing it. never. i remember what it was like to actually feel it, love, that is, and it was great. it was real.
today, the girl who stands in front of you is fake, dead, and well, bordering on sociopathic in her manipulations.
I’m in the corner of the classroom
Last desk to the right – near the wall
I am banging my head violently on the desk
As obscenities vomit into the air
I scream “Fuck! Fuck you all.
God fucking damn it! Rot in hell
You fucking dumbasses”
I am scratching, screaming
Pulling my hair out and jumping.
I am angry and frustrated
With everything and absolutely nothing
But really, I am sitting here quietly
Trying to control my heartbeat
And venting my emotions by
Drawing sadistic cartoon clowns
With Freddy Kruger hands
God, the students near me
Must think I’m actually psycho
“This much I’m certain of: it doesn’t happen immediately. You’ll finish [the book] and that will be that, until a moment will come, maybe in a month, maybe a year, maybe even several years. You’ll be sick or feeling troubled or deeply in love or quietly uncertain or even content for the first time in your life. It won’t matter. Out of the blue, beyond any cause you can trace, you’ll suddenly realize things are not how you perceived them to be at all. For some reason, you will no longer be the person you believed you once were. You’ll detect slow and subtle shifts going on all around you, more importantly shifts in you. Worse, you’ll realize it’s always been shifting, like a shimmer of sorts, a vast shimmer, only dark like a room. But you won’t understand why or how. You’ll have forgotten what granted you this awareness in the first place
You might try then, as I did, to find a sky so full of stars it will blind you again. Only no sky can blind you now. Even with all that iridescent magic up there, your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trace constellations. You’ll care only about the darkness and you’ll watch it for hours, for days, maybe even for years, trying in vain to believe you’re some kind of indispensable, universe-appointed sentinel, as if just by looking you could actually keep it all at bay. It will get so bad you’ll be afraid to look away, you’ll be afraid to sleep.
Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you’ll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You’ll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. And then for better or worse you’ll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you’ve got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.
And then the nightmares will begin.”
― Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves
I’m dying to read this book but it’s incredibly long, and I am always too busy with school. I don’t have time to sleep, let alone actually enjoy myself by reading something that won’t give me cottonmouth. fuck.
More awesomesox quotes by him http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/13974.Mark_Z_Danielewski
I’m sitting in class, foot tapping the floor while I scribble aimless words, shapes and faces in my notebook. I don’t think I’ve written a legitimate page of notes in this thing all semester.
I look out the window and the trees burn orange and bleed red. They look like skeletons and the grass is straw-yellow. It’s only a matter of time before winter reigns. Everything is so beautiful. The colors are so much more saturated. My eyes are fixated on this one couple smiling and laughing. Everything is lovely outside… But ugh this class is so…
“… and that means what?” I jerk my head up.
The teacher is staring at me.
“Uh … um…”
“Pay more attention to class and less to the window!” she scolded me.
I try to reply but suddenly I’m drowning. I can’t breathe, my mouth tries to form words and my tongue is thick and heavy. Knowledge of my inhaler pops into my head. Inhale. Exhale.
And stop. The sensation goes away. Too fixated on themselves to notice, the class proceeds forward, dragging me along.
I sneak a final peek out the window before returning to scribbling nothings in my notebook.
“Late teen girl. Found unconscious on the bathroom floor. Possible overdose. Heart-rate sinking to 52. Very pale and diaphoretic”
The gurney sped down the hospital corridor.
“She’s comatose. We’re intubating her now.”
It must have been muscle memory that walked me down the stairs and out of the building because I have no idea how I got here. Yes, indeed it had to be muscle memory. The very same that put this cigarette in my mouth and lit it.
Two shapes are talking, over each other, to me – so I end up unable to decipher either of their words. Things come back into focus. Elaine stands in front of me, alone.
“What happened to the other person?”
“No one was here but me…” she replied as she cocked one eyebrow up and rested her hand on my back. I felt obliged to agree. All my questions seemed to melt into oblivion as she blathered on about her psychological medical science class which amounted to a mess of spinal cords and behavioural patterns.
She calls me “Lexi” like an old friend. She calls herself nothing and the more I look at her, the more unfamiliar she becomes.
She looks over the edge of the bridge. I hear the words “Wake up” whispered close to my ear like the voice of God. Yet, feels like an earthquake. My body resonates, my shoulders ache and my feet are numb.
I’m not asleep. I can see her perfectly. She looks like a pale angel. Then I notice how she’s not Elaine, far from it. She has dark hair, a frail frame, horizon-blue eyes descended from Caribbean waters.
She looks exactly like I want to. The more I openly dissect her features, the faster she walks and the more I come to realize that she is my vision of perfection incarnate. I am following a trail of valium, ecstasy, Xanax, speed to catch up, to push forward, and to be like her. I haven’t realized yet that she’s not real, that I am. I’m losing my mind as I try to walk as fast as her, but I slip and fall. Hard. Balloons lift into the air. They spelled things like ‘Get Well Soon.’ Something smelled like dead flowers.
“Who will think you’re beautiful now?” he said while his fist gripped a mass of black hair, arching her neck backwards. He forced her pink, soft mouth open and slowly dragged the blade from one corner to her ear. Repeat. A type of fevered paranoia had been slowly consuming him like a thick and bitter charisma. He saw her smile effortlessly at every man – all too impressed, thankful, and flirtatious – like she was descended from a painted china doll… It disgusted him. He gave her everything and she thanked him with the same smile, tinkling laugh and sparkling eyes that she wore for every other man. He dwelled on that permanent, carefully constructed blush in her cheeks. Then his focus shifted back and he narrowed his eyes.
“Now, show me that bee-you-ti-full smile,” her husband said.
He picked up her hand and broke her fingers until she screamed, ripping her face further apart. Her view flashed white with neon blue dots crowding her vision. Then, the world went black.
The above is my version of how the beginning of the legend went down.