Ad 2:
2014-10-08 16:44:17 (UTC)

Lamictol? More like LAME-ictol, ha ha ha

"Hannah Hunt" by Vampire Weekend


"I’m sorry, I’m awful, I’ve just felt so terribly destructive all week. It’s awful. I’m horrible."
-J.D. Salinger

[He the coolest.]

October 8, 2014 Wednesday 4:46 PM

I remember what I wanted to say; I hate being defined as "normal" or "just like everyone else". I just hate it. I hate that I'm so easily lost among others. I don't want to be a regular person with regular thoughts. I want more. I want to be better than human, but human all the same.

I came here to write and as soon as I started typing, my thoughts flew away and it seemed like a chore, not a hobby. This happens sometimes, so I'm not worried. Eventually, I fall in love with writing again. I'm just worried because I document my feelings here and with the large gaps (i.e. the lack of entries I had written from January 2014 to April 2014. I was just not into writing and that lasted FOUR MONTHS. FOUR MONTHS, MAN) it's hard to tell what was going on in my life at that time. I DIDN'T EVEN WRITE ON MY BIRTHDAY THIS YEAR, WHAT. That was six months ago, but still. *whines*

I am reading John Dies At The End (by David Wong but I mean, c'mon, that's not his real name yo). It's really good and I think it's going on my Favorite Books list!!! NO, BUT REALLY, I LOVE IT. COMEDY/HORROR REALLY SUITS MY MIND SINCE I SEE THE WORLD IN A VERY SATIRICAL WAY AT TIMES.

It's really fucking funny, too.

Also, disgusting, but I appreciate that because I am also very disgusting.

I've been having very vivid dreams, lately. Lots of anxiety and fear in them. The other night, in my bad-dream-bordering-on-nightmare, I watched my dad die of a heart attack. That was terrifying.

Also, Lily lived in a dark mansion and stole everyone's dogs.

I woke up at three in the morning (my dad told me this morning that that is the time the blood moon was out and I AM VAGUELY CREEPED OUT, MAYBE I'M PSYCHIC. "Nah," say logic and science, "Just no.") to rain.

The rain was coming down HARD. It was incredibly relaxing. It wasn't a gentle pitter patter, I mean, the rain was so hardcore that the sound was more like white noise.

I've been waking up in the middle of the night a lot. Several days in a row, actually. I go to bed pretty early because I look forward to escaping the real world and I don't know why I find my eyes opening at 1, 3, or 5 AM.

I have been feeling better. I am less sad, and maybe that's because I have been nice to myself. This weekend was my low point. I cut myself ("boo hoo, Veronica, suck it the fuck up" says the rest of the world) lots on my leg.

Oh! And on Monday, my psychiatrist lady prescribed Lamictol (25 mg... lower than I'm used to) AGAIN.

She already tried that on me in May/June, but my parents thought it was making me irritable (I think I was just stressed about finals) so we stopped it. She wanted to put me back on Seroquel but I said hell to the no because IT HAD TERRIBLE EFFECTS ON ME WHEN I FINALLY GOT OFF THAT MEDICATION and also, it's a mood stabilizer and what I need is an anti-anxiety.

Anyway, so yeah, I'm on Lamictol (haha more like LAME-ictol haha oh my god I'm not funny) but it won't kick in for another month. And I've only taken it once because I forgot last night. But whatever.

Okay. Well, I feel lovely and my inspiration is slowly seeping back in. My hands are really shaky because it's been nine hours since I last ate. Oops, I should probably consume some edible substances right about now.

I still don't have a lot of friends and my love life is nonexistent but I'm just thankful that I'm not sad.

PS: My dad does the science. He's a scientist (why must I make my sentences so difficult to understand?) and that makes me happy because I know all kinds of cool stuff that other people in my class don't know??? It's especially great because we're doing Biochemistry right now and that's the exact area my dad works in. OK. DAD, I LOVE YOU. THANKS FOR HAVING A PONYTAIL.

Mystery for future entries: Ethan told me to ask Mr. Sandwich about Terrible Ted. I did and Mr. Sandwich says I am not ready. REALLY?