The ticks begin again

Its strange how I can feel the ticks, those telltale signs of a crash. They are small, almost unnoticable by others. But I see them. I feel them. Its the little things. The fact that my sleeping patterns are erradic. The fact that I have writer’s block. The empty feeling in my brain. The haunting past and the unknown future. I suppose that is what the present is, stuck in the instant between the past and future. But my past haunts my thoughts. I miss the feeling Tim gave me. I don’t miss him in particular. Should he show up at my door tomorrow, asking to reunite, I don’t think I would accept. I’ve changed too much to be willing to go back to the way things were. Too much has happened in my life since we were together. But I miss the confidence he gave me. I miss spending time with someone who knew me and loved me.

“The little indiosyncrasies that only I know about. That’s what made her my wife. People call these things imperfectsion, but they’re not. That’s the good stuff.” ~ Sean from Good Will Hunting

I want someone like that in my life. Someone who laughs with me as my iPod switched from Beethoven to Breaking Benjamin. Someone who knows that I want a knight in shining armour and yet feel completely self-sufficent at the same time. I miss the comfort of having someone there for me.

So back on point, I’m slipping and I know I am. I stopped taking my meds a few weeks ago. It wasn’t because I made a decision not to take them, I honestly just forgot. I used to have morning habits and at one time I had worked my meds into that habit. But I’ve long since lost all those habits and forgotten to take my meds. There’s something I once read that made me realize why I hate taking them. I mean, I know they help but there’s always something in me that makes me not want to take them. “I hate taking the medication. Its a constant reminder that I’m sick. That I’m not normal.” I completely get that. Its not like I’ve ever been normal, or really even wanted to be normal. I like my quirks and indiosyncrasies. They are what makes us all interesting. But it feels like I have a quirk beyond what most people have. And this quirk affects my very well-being. I would give anything to be normal and to react normally. I desperately wish I would be in college having the grandest time of my life, meeting lifelong friends and even that person I’m meant to spent the rest of my life with. But I can’t. I have this “quirk,” this thng that makes me different, outside of the box, no….outside of reality. I want to be happy, but I’ve somewhat come to the conclusion that I will never be happy, not completely. I don’t know what I’m going to do the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll constantly be teetering between sane and insane. I’ll never be completely on one side or the other. This is probably a goo thing, but at the same time its no picnic. I just want to be normal. I want to be like every other twenty-something-year-old who is in college, exploring life.

I know all this seems so philosophically depressing and don’t get me wrong – it is. But its all I’ve got right now.