Into the void...
“That night she sat for hours, too numb even to drink, teaching herself to breathe in a vacuum. For this, oh God, was the void. There was nobody who could help her. Nobody in the world. They were all on something, mad, possible enemies, dead.”
-Thomas Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49
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2002-07-15
1:54 p.m.
I try damn hard to be a reasonably normal person. I try to be responsible and mature and put all my affairs in order as well as humanly possible. I try to plan out my finances and projected expenditures, I try to organize myself into a relatively ordinary member of the working class, I try to ensure that my major mental breakdowns occur at the best possible moments. I try to overcome the obstacles that so obscenely block my way. I try to live with depression and anxiety because that's what the normal people tell me to do.
But then I'm reminded of how monumentally horrific the depression and the anxiety can get, and I'm once again brought back to the feeling that the normal people can go to hell because they don't know what I'm dealing with. Then I curse myself for trying to become one of the normal people, and I hate the normal people for making me do it.
I can't even describe to you the severity of the wound I feel like inflicting on my forearm right now. I can't describe anything to you. The horror is coming in increasingly pronounced and increasingly debilitating bursts.
I can't breathe...I can't see....
I hate everything
