I took a nap. I feel so much better today than yesterday. The depression is releasing, naturally, which makes me think it’s not real (natural) depression but just my brain adjusting to my medication changes. Dosage changes. I’ve decreased my risperidone rather quickly (0.5 mg / week for a few weeks in a row, down from like 3.5 mg to 1 mg), so there may be some withdrawal there. Even if the psychiatrist says to do it that fast, they always go too fast. They don’t teach jack shit in psych med school. The whole trade is a fucking joke. I am vehemently firm in this opinion.
I want to “work on my poetry” but I don’t know what that means. I find it an empty and hollow hobby, with no reward, and it actually kind of makes me depressed. Or sad. I don’t know. More depressed. Like, I lose sight of the meaning of art, and it’s just a void, or becomes one.
Fuck. I don’t know, man.
I miss prettywordsforuglythoughts. I miss CJ. I miss that girl on the east coast. I miss that girl in Cali who was my “black box”. I miss these strangers I meet on the internet, have powerful connections with, and who just then disappear from my life for no good reason.
It’s not fair. It’s not fair of them to do that to me.
Please, if you are reading this, and we are connected in any way–please don’t ever abandon me. I’ve been abandoned by so many people and it’s left me so alone and defeated. There’s no one to turn to after something like that happens. No one.
Well anyway, PSA as it were.