“…Sleeping is for people who know how to sleep. I’m not one of those so I doze. Semi-overdose. Just a little bit for shallow breath and clammy skin…”, said me in a poem a long time ago. Anyway, I can’t sleep. Nothing’s working. I ate a banana. I pet my cat. I gave him a massage. I have spa music on. Earplugs in so I don’t hear him run all over the house like a maniac on the dance floor.
I’m not in any particular unusual pain other than my typical chronic pain. That’s not what is keeping me awake. I don’t know what is. Maybe it’s because I slept all day. But, then, why am I so tired right now? I should be wide awake. I’m not. I’m drowsy. I can’t think straight. I was trying to type up an already written poem earlier and couldn’t keep my head focused. It took me 2 hours to finish one page in my journal. That says something about my current state of mind.
If this keeps up I’m going to start thinking bad thoughts. That’s always what happens. My PTSD comes and slaps me up and down. I can already feel it. I had one memory pop up. Feeling ill rethinking it now.
RAMBLE TIME TO GET MY MIND OFF OF SADNESS!
You know the other day I had to lengthily explain to a nurse the difference between bipolar and bipolar type 2 and the different types of bipolar type 1? And she seriously could not grasp what was different about BP2. I was like, “I get manically depressed. RARELY manically happy. I’m just a manic depressant really. Bipolar1 people get manically happy and manically depressed. More ups and downs” She replied, “so you don’t get manic?” (me: *internal eyeroll*) I said, “No, I just don’t get happy.”
It’s times like these when I really wish I was beautiful. And that I had a tomorrow worth looking forward to.
I’m in my 20s. You know, summer is coming. And a month after my chemo I should be good for my next tattoo. APRIL. And I want to look really good over the summer. You know, like really good. I don’t care if I’m fat. EVERYONE HAS CELLULITE. Okay. Mine really isn’t that bad. I’ve seen much worse. I only have a little. And not everyone has it. My whole family is naturally thin, fairly tall, flat-assed and flat-chested (opposite of me) and an aunt of mine is absent of all cellulite. She is so blessed. Anyway, I can get that thing liquid cellulite smoother laser machine magic. I wonder how much that costs…
And I’ll dye the roots of my hair light blue. ❤ LIKE A MERMAID.
And I should go into Brooklyn more. And meet new people. Go to poetry slams. Secretly despise everything being said because that’s what usually happens. I clap anyway and cheer because they have the guts to get up there and that’s more than I can say for myself.
Though these are just dreams. Bursts of little thoughts. I’ll follow through on maybe one of them…. It’s times like these when I really wish I was beautiful. And that I had a tomorrow worth looking forward to.