In and out of this noise.
I took Sudafed. The prescription type. It launched my mind into a strange wave of overdrive and depletion. I skyrocketed with energy, despite the illness, and managed to grocery shop and clean the house. Then I crashed, fell into sleep. Woke up after a nightmare about my family, rape, and meth... woke up thrashing. Water. Cleansing, purifying water. Thrashing. Hold the legs still. Breathe. Breathe. Dove back under, but only for a small amount of time.
After I woke up, I decided to eat. Started an hour cooking process, and to save myself from falling asleep again, I got online. I decided to watch House to entertain my brain, got into it, into the story, into how it was woven. I was studying the structure of it, how it would have been written, trying so hard to follow and understand...
And then the boys came home. I was so irritated. I don't know how many times I told them to shut the fuck up for five minutes. They didn't. At the end of the garbled episode (the part I was interested in... seeing everything come together in a climax), I was pissed. Andy asked what had happened. I told him I had no fucking idea because I couldn't hear. Words were exchanged. It was a blur. I screamed, "have some fucking respect!" then struggled through his arms to the bedroom. Now I am fighting off tears as I listen to him and C continue on with their night.
It seems stupid, over a show. And in that aspect it is. It's the bigger picture that gets me. I feel like I've been reduced to my room because of them. They have taken over the living room. They are intrusive about it, unwavering when you ask them to shut up or leave. Their hobby is strewn all over the room. Even though I ask, it is never put away. It is a living, breathing thing that is slowly grinding at every one of my nerves.
I'm seeing so many things that I don't want to see. It is no doubt that the illness, the mixture of medication, and the intense sleep has launched my brain off balance. But I am not the only one to blame for imbalance. It's everywhere. No one sees it like I do, though, and I am falling apart right now from it. Edges frayed, I'm not sure how much longer I can stay hidden in this room. I am coming undone again.
After I woke up, I decided to eat. Started an hour cooking process, and to save myself from falling asleep again, I got online. I decided to watch House to entertain my brain, got into it, into the story, into how it was woven. I was studying the structure of it, how it would have been written, trying so hard to follow and understand...
And then the boys came home. I was so irritated. I don't know how many times I told them to shut the fuck up for five minutes. They didn't. At the end of the garbled episode (the part I was interested in... seeing everything come together in a climax), I was pissed. Andy asked what had happened. I told him I had no fucking idea because I couldn't hear. Words were exchanged. It was a blur. I screamed, "have some fucking respect!" then struggled through his arms to the bedroom. Now I am fighting off tears as I listen to him and C continue on with their night.
It seems stupid, over a show. And in that aspect it is. It's the bigger picture that gets me. I feel like I've been reduced to my room because of them. They have taken over the living room. They are intrusive about it, unwavering when you ask them to shut up or leave. Their hobby is strewn all over the room. Even though I ask, it is never put away. It is a living, breathing thing that is slowly grinding at every one of my nerves.
I'm seeing so many things that I don't want to see. It is no doubt that the illness, the mixture of medication, and the intense sleep has launched my brain off balance. But I am not the only one to blame for imbalance. It's everywhere. No one sees it like I do, though, and I am falling apart right now from it. Edges frayed, I'm not sure how much longer I can stay hidden in this room. I am coming undone again.