Dog and Pony
(Regina Spektor, Dog and Pony)
Dog and pony
Empty file
Cabinet
You never forget
You never come back the same
Each time you go up in flames
Each time you begin to blame
You never come back the same
Just a little bit more love
Oh, a little bit more love
Just a little bit more love
For me
Just a little bit more love
Oh, a little bit more love
But it's alright
Don't cry
My sweet
You were born
Unto me
I'm torn
Unto me
I'm worn
Unto me
Unworn
So I danced my dance
And I kissed your hands
And I took a chance
And we fell into a trance
It's happening again, I feel like crying again, and this time it's not the paroxetine withdrawal. I think I'm on a downturn. I know that sounds clinical but it's the only to get by these days. I've given up on therapists for now because...I'm sick of them. They just make you more confused, and they help you survive. And sure, sometimes I could do with help for that as well, but I'm tired of surviving. I've been surviving for 18 months. When my Dad looks at me it's as if mourning for someone who looks like me. No wonder he's drinking. I'm being melodramatic...
What's brought this on? I was tidying up and was looking through my old college diary of homework etc. It was funny watching me be as sarky as I could on a homework diary. There was all this homework and short essays - like 5+ a week, and all these ticks next to them. I was a straight A student. And then, I noticed on Wednesday 16th there's a note about a teacher's strike. On the saturday 19th spot it says Dad's back from his cruise. The rest of the pages were blank. Then I remembered. That was when I tried to kill myself, and the only notice of it is 4 blank weekday pages when more homework should be amassing, and crossed out Classics homework because they forced me to drop it and reduce my workload. And then, apparently it's back to normal. How peculiar. How slightly traumatic.
And now, I'm just tired of subsisting, and all the C grades (well, 2.2s) and not being able to take on so much without collapsing on myself. What's the point of living if I'm not at my best??? *sigh*. When I'm back in Manchester it's back on paroxetine and the beta blockers. The last couple weeks of (poverty enforced) detoxing have been terrible but they worked at least, when I was on them.
Dog and pony
Empty file
Cabinet
You never forget
You never come back the same
Each time you go up in flames
Each time you begin to blame
You never come back the same
Just a little bit more love
Oh, a little bit more love
Just a little bit more love
For me
Just a little bit more love
Oh, a little bit more love
But it's alright
Don't cry
My sweet
You were born
Unto me
I'm torn
Unto me
I'm worn
Unto me
Unworn
So I danced my dance
And I kissed your hands
And I took a chance
And we fell into a trance
It's happening again, I feel like crying again, and this time it's not the paroxetine withdrawal. I think I'm on a downturn. I know that sounds clinical but it's the only to get by these days. I've given up on therapists for now because...I'm sick of them. They just make you more confused, and they help you survive. And sure, sometimes I could do with help for that as well, but I'm tired of surviving. I've been surviving for 18 months. When my Dad looks at me it's as if mourning for someone who looks like me. No wonder he's drinking. I'm being melodramatic...
What's brought this on? I was tidying up and was looking through my old college diary of homework etc. It was funny watching me be as sarky as I could on a homework diary. There was all this homework and short essays - like 5+ a week, and all these ticks next to them. I was a straight A student. And then, I noticed on Wednesday 16th there's a note about a teacher's strike. On the saturday 19th spot it says Dad's back from his cruise. The rest of the pages were blank. Then I remembered. That was when I tried to kill myself, and the only notice of it is 4 blank weekday pages when more homework should be amassing, and crossed out Classics homework because they forced me to drop it and reduce my workload. And then, apparently it's back to normal. How peculiar. How slightly traumatic.
And now, I'm just tired of subsisting, and all the C grades (well, 2.2s) and not being able to take on so much without collapsing on myself. What's the point of living if I'm not at my best??? *sigh*. When I'm back in Manchester it's back on paroxetine and the beta blockers. The last couple weeks of (poverty enforced) detoxing have been terrible but they worked at least, when I was on them.