Going crazy.
Ugh. Yesterday was really weird. I don't even really know how to explain it. It was good in a way, and bad in a way. I just.. ugh. I feel like I'm going crazy. I swear I would have blown my brains out if I had a fucking gun. There's definitely something wrong with me. Or maybe it was just the drugs.
Ryan came over early in the day and we mixed about four grams each of shroom shake into some spaghetti sauce and ate it. Afterwards, we went outside and lay in the sun under a tree, just waiting for it to kick in. It was really badass at first.. everything looked like a painting. Every leaf on the tree was really green and really defined, and just.. everything was so picturesque, a scene that an artist would paint a picture of. We came back in and we were gonna go take a walk to Nimo's house, but then Ryan barfed all over the floor and we decided to take a break. That was when it started getting weird.
Ryan lay down on the couch and I took a pillow from the gamer chair and lay with it on the floor. I guess the shrooms made it seem like hardly any time was passing, because we must have lain like that for at least two hours. I remember looking at the clock when we first lay down around two, and the next time I looked after Michael came home, it was six or seven, and the sun was just starting to set. We just sat on the couch and cuddled and judged everyone and everything harshly, basically shooting the shit with Michael. It was so funny. Ryan and I pretty much came to the conclusion that Michael basically had 100% the personality of a performer and entertainer. We were sitting and tripping out and he was just keeping our senses entertained and stimulated with stories and pictures and just generally being physically interesting. He should be a one of those people who like go around and perform crazy stunts off of walls and buildings and railings that people take videos of and post on YouTube, the people who draw intricate pictures with chalk on downtown sidewalks, perform on the streets with backflips and draw on you with henna, play instruments and swallow swords and really just make money by being charming and charismatic and generally interesting to talk to rather than being particularly talented at what they're performing. After that, we went out on the traintracks and smoked a few blunts and just kept talking. Ugh, but then it got.. I don't know. I don't know how to explain.
Up until that point, I'd been calm and in a good mood, and even the laying down and not talking for several hours was a positive progression in the day. I'm not sure if it was because I'd done shrooms earlier the same day, but just.. the weed had a terrible effect on me. I mean, it always does, but it was so much worse this time. Ugh.
I feel like I'm going crazy. I can't stop thinking, assessing, analyzing, predicting. Thinking about how life really is, being so angry that I'm fucking wasting it, that I'm a mess of insecurities. I hate that things can't just be what they look like. I want to be effortless. I just want to be. I want to wake up and be able to feel like I'm physically acceptable without having to think about what I'm going to wear that will make my body look good, having to hide it by tricking the eye with things that accentuate the positives and downplay the negatives. I want to feel like I can get up and answer the door and not have to be worried about whether or not my hair is fuzzy and I have bags under my eyes. But it's not just that. I want to be like that in all aspects of life. I want to not have to mentally prepare for at least an hour when someone calls and tell me they're coming up without having made plans. I fucking hate that it takes me so long to calm down and soothe my jagged edges when I'm thrown into something unexpected and unplanned for. I'm just.. so unprepared. For everything. All the time. I feel like I'm constantly on the brink of losing all control of everything - like my boobs are going to bust out of my shirt, the wind is going to blow my hair into disgusting, my dad is going to die and I'm going to be thrown into situations that I'm not ready for, because I have absolutely no ability to take care of myself whatsoever. It fucking bothered me so much that there's no way I can prepare for EVERYTHING. Why can't I just be like one of those girls who are.. I don't know.. effortless? They get up and go to school and make spontaneous plans with their friends afterwards, and aren't overwhelmed by anxiety at the thought of not being able to predict every single deviation of every potential situation along the way.
Ugh. I'm not making any sense. My mind was racing so fast that I couldn't even keep up with it. I'd think something and it would float away and be gone before I could pin it down with words, let alone form the ideas into coherent thoughts that someone outside of my head can understand. Everything I've written has barely scratched the surface of what's in my fucking head. It suddenly occurred to me that I'm wholly and irrevocably unhappy, and there's no way I can ever change it, because there's no way to stop thinking. If I'd been wearing makeup, I would have smudged it, pulled out my hair. I just had this overwhelming desire to mess up everything that's perfect. Things aren't perfect. They only look perfect. It's just people trying to battle chaos by pretending that everything has a proper place and that it should go there. Nothing belongs anywhere specific, and nothing is as effortless as it appears. Everything that looks good has had a lot of effort put behind it to make it appear that way. I hate it when the table is messy and the floor isn't swept and my environment is in a general state of entropy. Toss my pillows off the bed, rip the perfectly spaced pictures off my fucking wall. I was really scared. Scared because I don't think normal people feel this way. Am I abnormal? Or does everyone feel like this and just not talk about it? Have other people gotten over it?
I just want to be one of those normal, happy, ignorant people who don't think about things like this.
Ryan came over early in the day and we mixed about four grams each of shroom shake into some spaghetti sauce and ate it. Afterwards, we went outside and lay in the sun under a tree, just waiting for it to kick in. It was really badass at first.. everything looked like a painting. Every leaf on the tree was really green and really defined, and just.. everything was so picturesque, a scene that an artist would paint a picture of. We came back in and we were gonna go take a walk to Nimo's house, but then Ryan barfed all over the floor and we decided to take a break. That was when it started getting weird.
Ryan lay down on the couch and I took a pillow from the gamer chair and lay with it on the floor. I guess the shrooms made it seem like hardly any time was passing, because we must have lain like that for at least two hours. I remember looking at the clock when we first lay down around two, and the next time I looked after Michael came home, it was six or seven, and the sun was just starting to set. We just sat on the couch and cuddled and judged everyone and everything harshly, basically shooting the shit with Michael. It was so funny. Ryan and I pretty much came to the conclusion that Michael basically had 100% the personality of a performer and entertainer. We were sitting and tripping out and he was just keeping our senses entertained and stimulated with stories and pictures and just generally being physically interesting. He should be a one of those people who like go around and perform crazy stunts off of walls and buildings and railings that people take videos of and post on YouTube, the people who draw intricate pictures with chalk on downtown sidewalks, perform on the streets with backflips and draw on you with henna, play instruments and swallow swords and really just make money by being charming and charismatic and generally interesting to talk to rather than being particularly talented at what they're performing. After that, we went out on the traintracks and smoked a few blunts and just kept talking. Ugh, but then it got.. I don't know. I don't know how to explain.
Up until that point, I'd been calm and in a good mood, and even the laying down and not talking for several hours was a positive progression in the day. I'm not sure if it was because I'd done shrooms earlier the same day, but just.. the weed had a terrible effect on me. I mean, it always does, but it was so much worse this time. Ugh.
I feel like I'm going crazy. I can't stop thinking, assessing, analyzing, predicting. Thinking about how life really is, being so angry that I'm fucking wasting it, that I'm a mess of insecurities. I hate that things can't just be what they look like. I want to be effortless. I just want to be. I want to wake up and be able to feel like I'm physically acceptable without having to think about what I'm going to wear that will make my body look good, having to hide it by tricking the eye with things that accentuate the positives and downplay the negatives. I want to feel like I can get up and answer the door and not have to be worried about whether or not my hair is fuzzy and I have bags under my eyes. But it's not just that. I want to be like that in all aspects of life. I want to not have to mentally prepare for at least an hour when someone calls and tell me they're coming up without having made plans. I fucking hate that it takes me so long to calm down and soothe my jagged edges when I'm thrown into something unexpected and unplanned for. I'm just.. so unprepared. For everything. All the time. I feel like I'm constantly on the brink of losing all control of everything - like my boobs are going to bust out of my shirt, the wind is going to blow my hair into disgusting, my dad is going to die and I'm going to be thrown into situations that I'm not ready for, because I have absolutely no ability to take care of myself whatsoever. It fucking bothered me so much that there's no way I can prepare for EVERYTHING. Why can't I just be like one of those girls who are.. I don't know.. effortless? They get up and go to school and make spontaneous plans with their friends afterwards, and aren't overwhelmed by anxiety at the thought of not being able to predict every single deviation of every potential situation along the way.
Ugh. I'm not making any sense. My mind was racing so fast that I couldn't even keep up with it. I'd think something and it would float away and be gone before I could pin it down with words, let alone form the ideas into coherent thoughts that someone outside of my head can understand. Everything I've written has barely scratched the surface of what's in my fucking head. It suddenly occurred to me that I'm wholly and irrevocably unhappy, and there's no way I can ever change it, because there's no way to stop thinking. If I'd been wearing makeup, I would have smudged it, pulled out my hair. I just had this overwhelming desire to mess up everything that's perfect. Things aren't perfect. They only look perfect. It's just people trying to battle chaos by pretending that everything has a proper place and that it should go there. Nothing belongs anywhere specific, and nothing is as effortless as it appears. Everything that looks good has had a lot of effort put behind it to make it appear that way. I hate it when the table is messy and the floor isn't swept and my environment is in a general state of entropy. Toss my pillows off the bed, rip the perfectly spaced pictures off my fucking wall. I was really scared. Scared because I don't think normal people feel this way. Am I abnormal? Or does everyone feel like this and just not talk about it? Have other people gotten over it?
I just want to be one of those normal, happy, ignorant people who don't think about things like this.