The unnameable is staring me in the face again.
I guess the only thing that I have to do is face it too, and not let it get the best of me, this time around.
Sure, it will paint my day a shade of blue, but a lighter shade now, somehow more manageable.
I will not let it win.
“A second isn’t some slice of spacetime, it’s just nine billion motions of a caesium atom. Accelerate to half the speed of light and a second is still nine billion motions of a caesium atom. But there’s only half the local motion there used to be, because the other half is already doing the travelling motion through space. Imagine yourself as a metronome. Each tick is a thought in your head, a beat in your heart, a second of your time.”
I don’t know what to say, except that I feel better everyday even if I have nothing to look forward to.
I want to eat in Sbarro.
I want Twix.
I want flourless chocolate cake.
I want oysters Rockefeller.
Argh. I want to go on a food trip.
I am on a diet.
I’m getting heavy.
It’s making me feel ugly already.
That’s the point of needed intervention: when I’m not comfortable anymore.
For a moment, I thought I was free of that self-regulating mechanism. Good thing I’m not… yet.
My psychiatrist again discussed my dual diagnosis with me: borderline personality disorder and clyclothymic or schizoaffective.
I’d give anything to not be borderline. He said that personality disorders are the hardest to treat because you have deep psychological issues that, in contrast to schizophrenia, are not responsive to medication.
So how do I cure myself? I don’t know.
I asked him sometime ago if I’ll still be his patient even if I’m a psychiatrist already, and he said probably.
Oh man.
—
I’m starting to dissociate from you already. And I feel like that’s a good thing, in the long run.
No more weeks and nights waiting for you. No more heartache and sorrow.
I am stable now, and I don’t want to ruin it.
—
Here I go again, a few hours later and I’m in despair again. I said I was stable this morning, but now, I’ve fallen through the cracks again.
This is a shitty way to exist. That’s all I can say. I hate being borderline. I hate it with a vengence because it makes me ruin relationships, makes me susceptible to abusive ones and lastly, I push people away when I want them to stay.
It’s a never-ending struggle to be normal. It doesn’t end anywhere. And it leads to some form of elusive stability that will last for some days (or months) only. Then you’re back to square one again.
I’ve cried this all out. There’s no more room for tears anymore.
I don’t know.
I don’t know how my future will turn out.
I’m alone at home.
Maybe I’ll go out drinking later.
My flight’s at 12:05 pa naman tomorrow for Bora eh. So it’s okay.
I’ve been feeling emotion-less for the past few days. Hence my short and boring posts.
There. That’s all I have to say. All my apprehensions and fears about the trip will be kept secret.
—
Painting gasoline rainbows with my fingertips, I feel you in: the dawn that breaks, the birds that fly, the moon that shines.
I will never be rid of you and I know this. You will forever be the one that got away.
I’m home alone for two days. My family already left for Subic.
I’ll get a wax later. It must be painful as hell. But I’ll have my friend, Isis, for support. Then she’s setting me up with this guy after that.
So my day starts at 6pm.
What a life.
Edited to Add: I’m meeting up with Kevin in a while. At least I have something to do before my waxing. Hahahahaha.
I feel so much better today.
I feel so in control and happy.
I feel like I don’t need meds anymore.
But my psychiatrist said that I feel fine because I am on meds. Looks like I’ll be seeing abilify, invega, lamictal, biperiden and clonazepam for a very long, long time.
—-
When I don’t see you, you don’t exist for me.
I have a serious problem with object permanence.
