(no subject)
Christmas, New Years. To some it is the fake anniversary of the birth of their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To others it is the anniversary of when some oil burned for 8 days. To me it seems to signal the beginning of an Autophobic state of mind. For those of you who havn't been reading random passages of my ICQ message histories with random girls I havn't spoken to in 3 years Autophobia is the fear of being alone. The problem is I know exactly what is causing it and why. I am a man of aloneness. Normally I love being alone, alone is when I do my best, alone but never lonely, but a couple months ago I started taking Flonase to clear my nasal passage to facilitate better sleep. It worked a little, instead of 14-16 hours a night, I was sleeping 8. It was good, my degree of what feeling "normal" was improved a bit. When I got strep throat a couple weeks back however I stopped taking Flonase because it did weird things to my throat and the last thing I needed to do was piss off my aggrevated throat. So for the week and a half I was bogged down with Fake Strep Throat, it turned out it wasn't strep throat, just a viral infection that had all the symptons of Strep I didn't take flonase and slept more than normal to battle off the virus. What this quite naturally led to was a complete ass fucking of the pitiful excuse for a sleep pattern I had. So now I am back on flonase and trying to recoup to a slightly better level of normal. However the transition is proving to be more than I can handle. As with all major shifts of my sleep pattern I am feeling more than just a little more tired. My entire mood is fucked right up. I am irritable, lethargic, suffering from mild insomnia and sleeping upwards of 14 hours a night and feeling like I have slept not at all. With a mood declining quickly towards depression how can one help but feel... shitty and lonely. Naturally with the feelings of shitty and depression comes the natural inclination to do the one thing no one should ever do, regret. Thinking over past crushes I fucked up, chances left untaken, boats missed, all that good stuff. How can it but help one further decline into immense feelings of shitty?
So that's where I am, feeling like utter shit and without any real means of comfort. I am for the most part completely alone. There is nothing like being completely alone to bring on feelings of Autophobia.
I am going to dye my hair as well, dark red, not all of it, just parts of it. I havn't decided what I am going to do or how yet, I think I am going to let it grow until I get it all into a ponytail before I do anything. I have an appointment at the Oximetry Clinic on January 19th Thursday. When I found out about it I was fairly indifferent, since I had not been sleeping well, but now that I have had some more time to not sleep well I have adjusted into a state of "they are going to say I don't have sleep apnea, there is nothing wrong with me and that I am a pussy" but they won't say that right away, they are going to interrogate me first, then make another appointment some weeks after then actually test me, then a couple weeks after that tell me I am a pussy and there is nothing wrong with me.
I feel like killing myself. This is not a cry for help, this is a statement of fact.
So that's where I am, feeling like utter shit and without any real means of comfort. I am for the most part completely alone. There is nothing like being completely alone to bring on feelings of Autophobia.
I am going to dye my hair as well, dark red, not all of it, just parts of it. I havn't decided what I am going to do or how yet, I think I am going to let it grow until I get it all into a ponytail before I do anything. I have an appointment at the Oximetry Clinic on January 19th Thursday. When I found out about it I was fairly indifferent, since I had not been sleeping well, but now that I have had some more time to not sleep well I have adjusted into a state of "they are going to say I don't have sleep apnea, there is nothing wrong with me and that I am a pussy" but they won't say that right away, they are going to interrogate me first, then make another appointment some weeks after then actually test me, then a couple weeks after that tell me I am a pussy and there is nothing wrong with me.
I feel like killing myself. This is not a cry for help, this is a statement of fact.