Two Sides to Every Storey
17.07.14 (Day 207)
08.42
A storey: a floor. Like the one I picked myself up from yesterday.
A story: this...
I have mood swings, as anyone who knows me well will testify. I have a lot of love and a very long fuse. Sometimes. Sometimes that fuse burns fast and all of the hatred and vitriol; all of the pent up anger, just spills out. This unpredictability is part of what has lost me so much, including homes, family and friends. Some of those have been on the receiving end of both Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde but they've stuck by me because they understand. I only wish I did.
So today, I'm me. Yesterday I was the person I call Someone Else. Someone Else's days are sometimes almost black outs. A darkness descends and envelops that person, leading to anxiety attacks. They're the long ones. The short ones are the panic attacks: those little bastards come from nowhere and afflict both me and Someone Else. We live with it, for the alternative is to make the Voice of the Inevitable silent: the voice that reminds us that one day we will surely die. The only way to stop that voice is to be rid of the constant reminder. Or to remind ourselves that this too shall pass.
Like so.
Someone Else has been dealing with things for me over the last few days, including making some decisions which may be considered irrational. Now that I'm back, I may give things due consideration: prison or hospital, Someone Else said.
Now that I'm back, I need to speak to Someone Else: myself. First sign of madness they say.
It's when one argues with the other that conflicts arise.
Two conflicting stories
17.07.14 (Day 207)
08.42
A storey: a floor. Like the one I picked myself up from yesterday.
A story: this...
I have mood swings, as anyone who knows me well will testify. I have a lot of love and a very long fuse. Sometimes. Sometimes that fuse burns fast and all of the hatred and vitriol; all of the pent up anger, just spills out. This unpredictability is part of what has lost me so much, including homes, family and friends. Some of those have been on the receiving end of both Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde but they've stuck by me because they understand. I only wish I did.
So today, I'm me. Yesterday I was the person I call Someone Else. Someone Else's days are sometimes almost black outs. A darkness descends and envelops that person, leading to anxiety attacks. They're the long ones. The short ones are the panic attacks: those little bastards come from nowhere and afflict both me and Someone Else. We live with it, for the alternative is to make the Voice of the Inevitable silent: the voice that reminds us that one day we will surely die. The only way to stop that voice is to be rid of the constant reminder. Or to remind ourselves that this too shall pass.
Like so.
Someone Else has been dealing with things for me over the last few days, including making some decisions which may be considered irrational. Now that I'm back, I may give things due consideration: prison or hospital, Someone Else said.
Now that I'm back, I need to speak to Someone Else: myself. First sign of madness they say.
It's when one argues with the other that conflicts arise.
Two conflicting stories
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