All
of my journal entries are private now. So this will be one of the first in a long time that isn't. Mostly livejournal is for when I can't tell anyone else what's going on, which is ironic because it's such a public forum but It makes me feel better and I can press that private button and it all makes it nice and invisible to anyone I know in person who might see it and judge me and open their fucking mouth about things they could never understand. Apparently, even people who experiance what I experiance don't fucking get it, but I suppose I shouldn't expect them to because bp individuals are all just that, individuals and why should we all share some far-fetched kinship just because our chemicals are similarly imbalanced? My profile picture is one that Ian took when I was around 14. Which is gross because the rest of the series is in my private collection because I'd be embarressed if anyone else saw them and knew I was OK with taking picture of that caliber at that age. I had no inhibitions.
I'm writing because 50 minutes ago I was woken up from a nap by a terrible dream that is reoccuring. Ok, well, actually, it was a reoccuring section of a dream I always have. There is this room that is small, dirty, completely cramped and over run with small animals. Not comfortable, sweet animals like cats or dogs or ferrets or anything like that. Usually it's just rodents and lizards. This time it was birds and all those things and fish jumping out at me (ok like, two fish) and every step I took I killed something or stepped on something dead and lizards were jumping out at me and in my dream I had a panic attack and it crossed over into real life in a very real, painful and angry way. I am still not completely over it and I wish my brain would start being original again and stop fucking showing me the hellroom over and over again because it's not significant to me and it probably won't be ever and i'm not getting anything out of it so fucking quit, Brain.
Just quit. I'd like to eventually sleep like a normal person instead of in bursts at odd hours.
I'm writing because 50 minutes ago I was woken up from a nap by a terrible dream that is reoccuring. Ok, well, actually, it was a reoccuring section of a dream I always have. There is this room that is small, dirty, completely cramped and over run with small animals. Not comfortable, sweet animals like cats or dogs or ferrets or anything like that. Usually it's just rodents and lizards. This time it was birds and all those things and fish jumping out at me (ok like, two fish) and every step I took I killed something or stepped on something dead and lizards were jumping out at me and in my dream I had a panic attack and it crossed over into real life in a very real, painful and angry way. I am still not completely over it and I wish my brain would start being original again and stop fucking showing me the hellroom over and over again because it's not significant to me and it probably won't be ever and i'm not getting anything out of it so fucking quit, Brain.
Just quit. I'd like to eventually sleep like a normal person instead of in bursts at odd hours.