Diary #1

There are days like yesterday that still feel like today and spill over on to the next. There are days like now which won't start until I wake up, and days that won't end until I collapse.

Today has been particularly stressful though; I can't leave the house because I feel too much. I have a few drinks to try and regulate everything; a carlsberg, a bit of wine usually goes further for me than most other people. Its great; you can feel it. There's a hit each time that increases with intensity, that provides an inner warmth that continues to burn brighter and brighter; so long as it is fuelled. And that distraction, that feeling of grabbing another is just a temptation I can't stop submitting to. At times like now, I know that the quantity is making me ill; headaches, nausea, a pervading dread, weakening organs and a sickening feeling that I know it can't and won't last forever.

And that is exactly when I think: 'I don't have to do this anymore'.

Apparently, thats the first step of freedom. What a load of shit; that thought flits about my brain like a moth to a flame. Eventually it gets consumed and turns to dust, but returns later on. And another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

Everything seems far away; emotions, motivation, victory. Feelings can quickly come to the fore in almost nuclear outbursts. Its like I'm recklessly slashing a sword to cut through anything that strays into my path knowing fine right I'll be suffering recoil damage. Knowing somewhere at the heart of intoxication I'll regret it.

But thats the thing about feeling like someone else; you aren't you. You don't want to feel like you; I want to be the bottle, and I want to be empty.

Week.

The end of my first week ends with an avalanche. Sort of. If you count opening your window to a deluge of snow rushing down the roof and freezing your nipples off, then it did. Which happened. Yeah, I'm confused.

The week has been a respite for me because its finally kicked me back into a routine; gone are the days when I can crawl out of bed at three in the afternoon and lounge like trailer trash in my underwear; I've actually been getting up around 6 *gasp*, changed by 8 or 9 *le bigger gasp* and been pretty productive! *le-what-the-fuck-gasp*. Its strange to have a feeling that this will be rigid, that I won't let things keep me up  at night, letting thoughts unravel until I'm left with a mess of anxieties to clear up: I wake up and the day doesn't feel so broken. I mean, like every other human being I still dread getting up without a bit of a lie-in, but who doesn't?

My actual classes this week have been pretty interesting, either due to debates that nearly escalate into fisticuffs or having to work with people that I have a history with. When someone you loathe sits deliberately sits near you for whatever reason, it always seems like a power play of some kind. It feels like I should either a) just try and be decent or b) just embrace my sardonic personality. B usually wins. I'm never really surprised.

But I guess one of the strangest things about this week is the amount of things have happened; I got the rest of my results for last semester and got a decent 2:1, My boyfriend broke up with me, I've maintained a more healthier routine, I've met with an older ex and managed a coffee date. All in the space of 5 days.

It all feels a bit unreal to be true. Its what I used to think a lot. But it has this kind of strange cohesion that just makes it fit, as opposed to when everything felt unreal and was fractured and messy.

Life is strange, and unreal I guess.