I’m feeling disconnected from it all.
I feel so far away… so hazy…
I feel so different.
It’s the exams…
They’re taking their toll.
Medical School October 25, 2008
I’m failing it.
And the sad part is, it’s not affecting me as much as it should be.
I’ve got no other life alternatives if I fail. I’ve got no other place to go.
I’ve got no place to turn.
No safe places here.
[Edit: Now I'm anxious as hell. I really am. Shit. I'm failing. Shit. Shit. Shit. I can't concentrate at all. I can't sleep. I can't sit still. My mind keeps racing. I can't focus on anything except on my impending doom and my apparent stupidity. I feel so inadequate. ]
Elusive Stability October 20, 2008
I’m stable, I declared to Dr. Los Baños.
And I am.
I haven’t felt the urge to cut. Or die.
Or jump.
Or obsess.
Or get paranoid.
I feel like I don’t need meds, but that’s precisely because I am on them.
Oh I hope to be like this forever.
Delete October 18, 2008
I’m better again.
I can handle this.
I know how to handle this.
I won’t go into extremes, like you said I would.
I know the right thing to do; the exact things to do.
I know the way; the right way this time around.
Oh our God is a God of mercy slapping me in the face when I need a good scolding. Thy will be done.
Etc. October 16, 2008
And the lonely night calls out to me.
I am alone.
I am alone and trying so hard not to give a damn.
Swaying these thoughts from my head.
I am trying so hard not to care.
Trying so hard to ignore what I can see so blatantly with my two eyes.
You say the world shouldn’t revolve around us, and I say ‘yeah.’
Deep down I’m falling into pieces with the words that I’m hearing and the thoughts that I’m feeling.
[I don't know how to go cold turkey on you. I don't know how to go about trying to do this anymore. It's hard. But I will try to do it. You'll live your life and I'll live mine. That will be my motto from now on. That's how you like it any way. I'll stop being nosy. I'll stop putting my nose into your business. I won't be the paranoid girlfriend that you think you have. From now on, I'll be cold as wood, except when you need me to be warm. Except when you want me to be warm. I'm sorry. I know no other way than this. I'll stop caring about the things that matter to me; I'll stop noticing the little things. In truth, I notice them only because I'm trying to find clues about how you really feel about me because I don't really know. But I'll stop. Starting today, You live your life and I'll live mine. We are two separate people. It's going to be hard for me, but if it will make you happy then so be it.]
World October 15, 2008
Immersed in a world, so very different from yours,
I feel like I’m fading away.
Or you’re fading away.
I feel you’re so very far away.
Who are you again? Remind me. I need to be reminded.
This is the problem with me.
I dissociate too quickly.
I feel you’re too alien to me now.
I do not know you anymore.
I need to know you again so desperately.
Oh Saturday, please come around.
Naked and Sacred October 11, 2008
I’m wearing a halo around my head, an aura I can’t remove.
I’m in love.
I’m at that can’t eat, can’t sleep phase, can’t study phase again.
Except for the last part, this is good.
Yummy.
My heart is on overtime. (Yuck, it has hypertrophied because I’m so fucking in love- We’re in the cardiovascular module and I have 200 pages of text to study for the exam on monday, forgive me).
Hate The Illness and Not the Ill October 8, 2008
I hate having Borderline Personality Disorder.
I hate having it.
It’s got everything that all illnesses have. It’s basically a catch-all.
It’s got the micro-psychoses, the mood swings, the paranoia.
All these I’ve got and I know all too well.
I hate it.
I wish I just had schizophrenia instead.
At least, with schizophrenia, antipsyschotics will be enough (I think) to manage my symptoms.
But with BPD, nothing seems to be enough.
It’s like having an incurable cancer that I can’t circumvent.
I hate it.
I’m taking two antispychotics and mood stabilizers for it and still…
Everything depends on me and possibly some chemicals in my brain.
Add to that the possible Schizoaffective diagnosis that I may have and what do you get?
A completely deranged and fucked up version of myself: a med student not knowing what to do with her life, plagued with demons that come when things are going just a little bit too well.
Enough.
Today, my mood was stable.
At least, I was not so very much (read: not suicidal) affected by the utterly heavy talk given by Dr. Lapuz, the author of When A Doctor Dies.
I hate being sick.
Is it too much to ask to just be normal?
Is it too much to ask to just be like everyone else?
Is it too much to ask to not hear voices?
I just want to be happy, to be stable, to make Mark happy, to make my friends happy, my family happy. That’s all. Is that too much to ask?
And all I get is a resounding silence.
