Tired

I have wanted to say something for days, but something has kept me from it.  I don’t know what – I guess it is just me loosing the fight against the notorious brain dragons that take over my thoughts.

“The wave has come, now she has past, hush.
Her power, her might, her silent extinguishing strength.
Shhh, lie down, lie down, and sleep.
No longer are you alone, hush.
The four riders black, devestation, they come hush.
Now you can sleep, sleep the best sleep.
No more screaming, no crying, no pain, just sleep.
Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, shhh!”

- William Flemming

Sometimes it’s as if all the ideas and thoughts I have are flittering by so quickly they are unattainable. It’s like I am trapped in a prison surrounded by nothing but images of all I have fucked up and the broken reminants of what remains.

I am tired of fighting.  What if that?  What if I am just tired of fighting?  Tired of trying?  Tired of it all?  What if I don’t even care to keep on?  What then?  Where does it leave me?

I just want to rest indefinately and stop this all.  I want the thoughts gone.  The stress gone.  I don’t want to fight.  I don’t see the purpose and I am not sure that I ever have.

Did I ever know who I was? Probably not.

I want so badly to hide in my room, burried under blankets and hiding from the world, but I have no room.  At least not one that I can truly call my own right now.  I hate this feeling of emptiness and lonelieness and of homelessness.  I don’t know where I can call home anymore and that’s almost as good as being homeless.

I think I will try to nap and hope the world just passes me by unnoticed while I sleep (hopefully).

Brain Dragons

“Even though I'm sleeping again, everything still feels a little rickety, like I'm here but not quite here, like I'm just a stand-in for my real self, like someone could just reach over and pinch me and I'd deflate. I thought I was feeling better, but I don't know anymore.” 
― Amy Reed, Crazy

This is all to true, even though most night I am not sleeping still.  I hate this feeling and I hate feeling like I have absolutely no control anymore.  I wish I could know how at one point, even when I was completely out of control that somehow I held together my life, but now . . . I have just lost everything.

Nothing seems real to me anymore . . . It's all like a broken, terrible nightmare that will persist if but just to take control of me and consume me completely before I can even take my next breathe.  This is why people commit suicide, they decide that they must end it before this "thing" has time to do it for them.  It's the only sense of control they have over their weakness and their illness; over their lives even.

How disheartening is it to think that the only thing you can actually control anymore is your own existence or non-existence.  What if you got the point that you didn't even feel as if you had no control of that?  Where does that leave me? Lost and hopeless with my own thoughts, thoughts that I wish I could destroy and never know again?

You can't unknow what is already known as they say I guess.    

How does a person essentially become a prisoner of their own mind?  How is that this invisible dragon slowly siphon all that was useful, all that was pleasant, everything that was once worth a damn, and just leave you as an empty shell of a person?

I can almost feel this dragon's claws as it digs deep into my brain, taking control of all that I am and refusing to ever let go of it.  These dragons are not like the ones in WoW.  No, they can't be so easily slain by a group of your "close" internet friends, nor would those friends really care to contend with your brain dragons.  What if I transform into a brain dragon after to many years of being controlled like a puppet on a string?  What if I start to slowly suck away the livelihood of any that dares to venture to close to what seems to be a sleepy brain dragon?

Sometimes a brain dragon is easily disguised as a harmless jester, full of "life" and seemingly harmless -- That is until you realize that the brain dragon is not full of life, it runs on your life energy, slowly sucking away till you are weak enough to consume.

Parasitic brain dragons are the only way I can describe my bipolar.  

As for now, I am gonna slip away to a *hopefully* delightful lunch with my most favortist bunny.