I'm just trying to do everything I can, in the context of these four walls, to make this day end as quickly as possible. Soon- more oxycodone and benadryl. I take them both since since I'm allergic to the oxy. I get hives. I've always been extrememly sensitive to prescription meds.
If it were up to me and God and I made a deal I would down the whole bottle of oxy, but I've been here too many times to know that He doesn't EVER let me off easy and that in the end the consequences to my choices are so incredibly messy.
I'm debating whether or not to drink the bottle of wine. I don't want to get physically ill on top of all that is going on. See... messy like I said. I've been eating. Mainly because it is a form of medicating as well. Not too depressed to eat, a part of me says, a very shallow, snarky and meniacal part of me. Well, I haven't over eaten, the defensive part of me argues back. Over eating would require more trips outside of my room. I just offended Terri, I don't want to create more opportunities to run into her and further cause offense. That's the important part of isolating- no one ELSE gets hurt. I've never been a fan of hurting others, just myself is fine enough.
I have been hurting Matt however, no matter how hard I try not to. He gets the blunt of the bipolar. He gets the I really need a hug but I want to stab you in the eye moments. He gets the I love you but I insanely hate you all at once episodes. Bless his heart. And I think a part of me is actually legitmately angry at him. Although I can't quite pinpoint the reasons. There's no love in the way I've been treating him and maybe I don't love him, at least not in the way that he deserves. He deserves someone better. Someone who will ooze emotional cake batter all over his buttery good heart. Someone like- Terri.
I always pictured them together and how great they would be. Honestly, if I die (God willing but I know God won't) that would be my dying wish. So here I offically say it, I would want Matt and Terri to start a life together. They'd be perfect in white suburbia together. Maybe one day they could go off and be missionaries in a foreign land because they are such good people like that. Okay, I'm tired of talking about this.
Times like this I wish I had Salvador Dali and J. D. Salinger sitting next to me in this room. Dali would be so flatteringly painting me into one of his surreal dream like portraits and Salinger would be reading out loud to me one of his World War short stories. Id occassionally interrupt him pointing out who the phony was in the scene. Then after convincing Salinger to come, we'd all grab a cap at the Cafe under a Starry Night. I'll make faces at Dali from behind my mug, scrunching my eyes and then bulging them. His eyes always bulged more than mine so when he makes the face I would almost spill my drink from laughing so hard especially from seeing the foam stick to his thin curly moustache. And Salinger would just be so embarrassed and regreting that he come, the old recluse. But our bellies would be warm, our mouths filled with laughter and my heart wouldn't be so lonely anymore.
Yep. There's my happy place. Happy indeed.
I don't want to stop writing, and imagining because it's been so long and I feel I have lost so much...