I Hate Happy People When I’m Sh*te

I know I’m meant to be writing a post on Australia and on the Art Therapy and update my “about me” page. I’ll just say it’s all on the way. You’ll soon see the odd piece of nothing floating onto my homepage in varying dribs and drabs but until then, I’m back to my tin can shaking habit of asking friend’s for their pennies of wisdom while I shrivel in my blanket.

Thanks Jen. You lucky sod.

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I HATE HAPPY PEOPLE WHEN I’M SHITE.  WHICH IS WHY I’M WONDERING HOW LONG IT’LL TAKE EMMA TO CONSIDER LAUNCHING A KITCHEN KNIFE THROUGH MY NECK.
I’ll stop with the caps- people get annoyed.  The people online I’m copy pasting insane amounts of crap to, with “XD, AHAA!!, !!!!!!?!?!?!!!111, and <33333” all over it generally while waiting for the tenth layer of paint to dry in the easel.  That’s what I’m doing now.  I think it’s more like seven layers but I’ve not finished the clown in the convertible yet- can’t decide if he should be driving towards or away from me.

My topic- “how wonderful it is to be in your head right now” isn’t easy.  How can you put that on paper… screen?  How can I aptly describe the clarity, the speed, the strength and physical pressure every thought and feeling launches at my mind?  (Why with questions of course.)  Walking is too slow, since I haven’t mastered the art of teleportation yet, but god damn it I will!, I’ll have to run.  I sit to watch and “intensely interesting programme” and three minutes later decide sitting is a waste of time and set about collecting quotes of the greats, googling anything that comes to mind, racing up the stairs because my mobile just rang… didn’t it?  (it didn’t)
No one can understand this unless they’ve felt it.  That the XDDDDDDDD isn’t an over reaction, I’m probably grinning like that, and most definitely feel like I should be grinning.

Points like this I recognise tired looks on a few friends faces… well one.  Generally the one’s aware of the meaning, but what a downer!!  The best people are the ones who when you announce that you’d really like to get a coach to dover and spend a week bumming round Paris, tell you that you could probably afford a train cheaply because the coach is too slow.  Those are the best people to be around.
Points like this I have to keep myself at a normal pace when Mum gets home from work, or I get the lecture.  The “Get some sleep.”  “Calm down.”  “You’re getting (hypo)manic.” lecture.  GETTING? GETTING!?!?  I’ll tell you lady I’ve got so past getting I’m skipping over there.

Ohh and another topic- I’m starting lithium tomorrow.  Or, the psychiatrist thinks I’m starting it tomorrow.  I’m not sure I want to take it.  Just… not yet.  “Can’t I allow myself one last un medicated mania?”  Okay FINE!! Be rational!  She warns me of the crash… the pissing, wanking, un holy crash that sends shockwaves of shit slamming into my brain.  I’m petrified of mirrors, I’m quite honestly horrified by the thought of being in a room alone with one, but I’d sit in a house of mirrors in the dark on my own in the middle of freaking nowhere rather than live through the week of a sliding crash into hell.  Like a binge drinking thirteen year old I crawl onto the flat, away from the mixed and the hellious, into the well where I plan to lie for the next few weeks thinking… “Never again.  Next time I’m killing myself before I fall off level three.”
So to take or not to take?
I want stability right?
I want normality right?
I want to go to Uni and survive the first year (if I don’t act on my cravings and leave for Paris tomorrow to peruse a life of the starving artist- I’ll take famous artist if you’re offering btw), so now is the time to get this SORTED!! RIGHT!?!

Right.  *sulks*

Okay, I’m sure the paint’s dry by now, and my legs are kinda dancing from sitting down too long.
*waves*
Nice meeting you.
*runs*