- Mental Junkyard… mind the dogs

Dreams and Labels	Oct 26th, 2007 9:56:44 am - Subscribe
Houston... we have a label... (And I'm not telling...) So they argue against labelling patients because it gives them an umbrella to hide under... and to a certain extent that is true... but for me apart from being an umbrella, they've given it a face. Something to fight against. Relatively reasonable ideas about how long it should take to get things done and some seriously reliable research about what works, and its all there available for my inspection and approval. The beast has a name. I know what I'm fighting. So there's hope right now. There are therapists, appointments, knowing looks and waiting rooms. There are group meetings and individual sessions. There is this online journal and another one hidden in the bottom draw of my bedside table. There's understanding and there's a future. And there's acceptance, and there's an eagerness to shake it off. There's tiredness. And there's hopelessness and deathly dreaming in their turn. There's no forgiveness. And there can't be. I've given up hope there. Fuck you. Fuck you hard. You are now the noisiest unhappiest place in my mind. You are now the black. You are now the fucking hatred. You asked for it in no less specific terms. There is corn and snow peas and strawberries, and a little grey cat, and a big brown and white one, a bird that rules the roost and a long suffering, but not leaving one... How did I come to be here. there is positivity here. There is happiness in potentia... now all I have to do is be happy... there's no place like home there's no place like home... *********************** I dreamt a dream thisafternoon. I was in the crushing hold of sleep Who wrapped his hand around my consciousness and squeezed some madness from my imagination. He tricked me into believing that I was awake Only to tell me later with a snigger that I was still asleep And still asleep And still asleep And his captive for as long as he wanted. Until the phone rang. Is that how a coma feels? Is that how it death feels? Do you see yourself getting things done only to realise that they're gone again in an instant meaningless and nothingness? Just thoughts.
mood: emotionless something in the real to share: I have not been this tired in a long time	(0) comments