10 August 2009

a little cloud

I hurt my back carrying a stack of books home from the library. The books were about psychosis because I am trying to make some kind of meaning of my experience (I know, pull up my socks and move along please, people do sex and drugs for the experience of altered consciousness). The truth is probably something like this: psychosis has made me lazy and more dependent than I ever was. People and conversations move too fast for me and I am quick to give up when a task becomes difficult. If I keep on I get paranoid, and if I keep on too long (an undefined measure) I take a while to come back. Being at work provokes psychosomatic nausea. More medication and I want to die because I can't think. Less and I think I'll work in a hotdog bun factory in order to avoid anything challenging.

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