Problematic

On March 14, 2019- I never slept. I meant to, but I just read web comics or something? There's a few good ones I really like: Miss Abbott and The Doctor Gourmet Hound The Real You Novae Honey Lemon All Haven Academy and A Common Teacher They have replaced the hole in my heart that Shojo manga left behind. I am, and forever will be, a hopeless romantic. Only unrealistic depictions of a perfect unconditional unfaltering love will do. Love that rests within the DNA of the partnership, so fundamental there could never have been another option for either of them. Drawn together by a deep understanding and acceptance of each other. Breath-taking. Magical. I'm never getting into another relationship. I think I was obsessively reading through Honey Lemon that night/morning. I tried to nap. Prior to my new prescription I was pretty borderline manic. Days here and there of little to no sleep. I'm sleeping more now, Seroquel knocks me out pretty quickly if I allow it.

I know I promised descriptions of the better nights I have been having. You'll get those. You get this first. I take pills to sleep. I take pills to live. Some of the pills are prescribed. The Kitten circles my lap like a shark deciding on the moment to strike chum dumped into the ocean. There are so many sounds in the night. The uneven wheeze of my own breath startles me. The kitten has too much room to run and the floorboards creak beneath the thumps of her paws. She sounds much larger than she is when she hits the ground. She sounds much less graceful. Her movements are quick, but so classically cat like. She could have been a model. If I wasn't holding her back. Here are some observations from the last couple of days: On Tuesday I saw a new psychiatrist. Psychiatrists are the ones that give you the drugs. I slept in until my appointment. I didn't feel up to work. I have been avoiding my stats classwork. With so many things. This, for instance. A playlist

At 7:30 PM in Houston the brightness of the day wanes. The sun plays it's last song of coral and pink as the curtain of night falls. The air smells like grilled meat. Family time. Soft chatter is overcome by base behind the house. The front yard is filled with accordions. Everything is in bloom. Every tree and every garden. The yards are crowded with wildflowers. A cluster of small oranges hides in my neighbor's tree. Despite the noise there are no people on the street, so the world feels unusually still. As if the life that was there has been stolen away. I have had some great weekends lately. Even though I recently tried to start a race war.  The reason is unclear.  Helter Skelter?  Serial killers are really big right now. One can't blame me for wanting to jump in on the trend. Jokes aside, as Thursday night became Friday morning and I had no idea where I was I spent perhaps 15 minutes trying to explain why my Jewish friend would also probably experience

I haven't been good at this at all lately. I have been telling myself I should go back to going back through my old posts. Making edits might make me get a feel for my voice again. I have had ideas, though. I have windows of thought even though I try to drown them out with other people's creativity. Procrastination is easier if you're not being productive at all. Writing makes me feel like I should be putting my focus toward Statistics or Supply Chain Management. School. I should have done what I wanted. I should have gone majored in writing. Fiscal responsibility be damned. I guess there's bound to be a lot of writing in law school...whether it makes me feel better, closer to my real Mulan, I don't know. I doubt it. A couple of days ago I had another moment where I had to recognize my general instability. " Most Girls " by Oscar Nominated Hailee Stienfeld was playing and I was overwhelmed. Like in tears. It still amazes me that she went from a really

If it's not I Will Follow You Into The Dark I don't want to hear it. I'm over your midlife crises bands of my youth. We all agreed you should have just leaned into The Postal Service. That could have aged well. I've been told Franz Ferdinand also aged well. The band, obv. Not the dude that was assassinated. Why are we all obsessed with dying kids in love? I agree the kid from The Suite Life grew up to be kind of hot...but can't we find something better to do with 20-something smoldering looks than make them pretend to be dying teens? What is the message to children? If you were just horribly life-threateningly ill, maybe, MAYBE, someone would truly see you and love you? Sometimes YA sucks. I have recently rediscovered the fact that all the people I have become surrounded by want to be artists. They write scripts, books, songs and animate. I'm surrounded by beatniks!! This must be how Allen Ginsburg felt...if he had been less attractive and talented. I don&