I'm taking new medication, it's not agreeing with me thus far, but I know it has to get into my system before I can adjust.
I'm writing right now because I can, because it's the first breath I've taken in days. I've crammed a whole lot of nothing in front of my face to avoid any actual thought or creativity. Filling my days with rampant bouts with mindless television, to shedding hours lost in video games. Nothing with substance, even my dreams are effected, the less you live while you're awake, the less you'll enjoy when you're asleep.
Severe antisocial behavior, a tiny circle of people that even manage to reach me via txt, and I spend whole days with my phone off lately. I'm doing good if Incan walk as far as the kitchen a few times a day... Just leaving my room is forced and uncomfortable.
Awkward doesn't begin to describe the way every small task has become... I fidget, I'm restless but tired. Bored but unmotivated. I am stir crazy, yet I can't imagine the pressure of leaving the house... The weight of the air, the open sky. I need walls and ceilings, and they get smaller everyday.
I can't just sit here and waste away, and I can't keep complaining in this, "woe is me" bullshit either. Last night my mind kept wandering to how much I miss my kids, and my brother. I cried... Sobbed uncontrollably, for just a second I cracked, then composed myself, as if I had to prove myself or be tough for someone else sake'.
I want to get better, I want to be me, get lost in creativity and pursuit of knowledge, rather than killing time. I want to care about something when I wake up, a reason to keep breathing. The whole point of new medication was to improve my disposition... Not agitate a frail and failing mental state.
Chemicals will adjust, and I'll wake up one day and feel different, changed. I'll leave my shell, I'll shed my skin and feel like me again, it just hurts waiting.