Damn. And other such thoughts.
This really wasn't what I meant to write about.
I meant to write about making turkey pies, about ebay batch II and about making winterfest decorations out of antique chandelier pieces. But instead...
It want TB.
Okay, so this isn't news, it's a thing I knew of about aged 10 and thought was interesting and then wanted vaguely/desperately on and off ever since I was 14 or 15.
But, well, since aged 14 or 15 I've been clinically depressed save for the odd season (possibly year, once or twice) that I haven't been unhinged, stabbing myself, miserable as fekk or otherwise afflicted... It's weird - I mean, it's weird looking back. When misery with occasional bouts of drama or outright insanity become as commonplace as tea and toast, you have to accept them like tea and toast. Your perspective shifts, your idea of a 'good day' becomes one not that was enjoyable, but which simply didn't cause you to attempt to eviscerate yourself. It's only as you get better, and better, and better, that you appreciate really quite how far down you'd previously fallen.
I do have a point and am getting to it, honest.
My point is I don't think I've wanted TB previously without being at least halfway insane.
But today I was reminded of it through an article link, and instead of saying 'Ergh! Nononono!' neurones said, 'Want!' And no, before you start, this isn't the stupid 'oh! it's so romantic, I'll get pale and thin and cough delicately into a hanky'... I know exactly what TB does. It's sort of like asthma and pneumonia, bronchitis and 'flu all at once, coming and going like a tide but drowning you just the same; it's endless grey days stained red.
But I still want it. Which is a little unnerving since by my count I'm more sane than I've been in at least the past decade. Ah well.
Soooo.
Anyone fancy giving me consumption?
Pleeaase?
I meant to write about making turkey pies, about ebay batch II and about making winterfest decorations out of antique chandelier pieces. But instead...
It want TB.
Okay, so this isn't news, it's a thing I knew of about aged 10 and thought was interesting and then wanted vaguely/desperately on and off ever since I was 14 or 15.
But, well, since aged 14 or 15 I've been clinically depressed save for the odd season (possibly year, once or twice) that I haven't been unhinged, stabbing myself, miserable as fekk or otherwise afflicted... It's weird - I mean, it's weird looking back. When misery with occasional bouts of drama or outright insanity become as commonplace as tea and toast, you have to accept them like tea and toast. Your perspective shifts, your idea of a 'good day' becomes one not that was enjoyable, but which simply didn't cause you to attempt to eviscerate yourself. It's only as you get better, and better, and better, that you appreciate really quite how far down you'd previously fallen.
I do have a point and am getting to it, honest.
My point is I don't think I've wanted TB previously without being at least halfway insane.
But today I was reminded of it through an article link, and instead of saying 'Ergh! Nononono!' neurones said, 'Want!' And no, before you start, this isn't the stupid 'oh! it's so romantic, I'll get pale and thin and cough delicately into a hanky'... I know exactly what TB does. It's sort of like asthma and pneumonia, bronchitis and 'flu all at once, coming and going like a tide but drowning you just the same; it's endless grey days stained red.
But I still want it. Which is a little unnerving since by my count I'm more sane than I've been in at least the past decade. Ah well.
Soooo.
Anyone fancy giving me consumption?
Pleeaase?