Amanda Fucking Palmer – “Another Year”

I tried to Fall in it again.
my Friends took bets and disappeared;
they mime their sighing violins,
I think I’ll wait another year.

I want my chest pressed to Your chest.
my nervous systems interfere.
ten or eleven months have passed;
I think I’ll wait another year.

this weather turns my tricks to rust.
I am a lousy engineer.
the Winter makes things hard enough.
I think I’ll wait another year.

plus I’m only twenty-six [thirty-two] years old;
my grandma died at eighty-three.
that’s lots of time if I don’t smoke.
I think I’ll wait another year.

I’m not as callous as you think.
I barely breath when You are near.
it’s not as bad when I don’t Drink.
I think I’ll wait another year.

I have my new Bill Hicks CD.
I have my Friends and my career.
I’m getting smaller by degrees.
You said you’d help me Disappear;
but that could take forever .


I think I’ll wait another year.
it’ll be the best year ever.
I think I’ll wait another year.
can’t we just wait together?
You bring the smokes, I’ll bring the beer.
I think I’ll wait another year.

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can’t do this

I CAN’T DO THIS.

I’m tired of the NOISE.  so tired of THE LOUD-ASS NOISE THAT FUCKING ECHOES IN  YOUR GODDAMN HEART.  IN YOUR FUCKING MIND.

We throw tantrums like parties.
We’re not happy ’til everyone knows we’re SICK.
And that’s just how we like it.
We’ve hurt Bad enough, right?  We’ve Earned it.
Don’t tell the others, but it’s all getting old.
you can hear It.  It Breathes against you.  It Breathes in spite of you.  you are merely a Pawn in Its creation.
I mean, how many more times must our stories be told?
And being lonely’s only fun in a group;
It sort of loses it’s charm when it’s true.
you can’t do anything against its noise and chaos and pain and hate and loudness and rage and anxiety and compulsions and noise and paranoia and eating disorders and thoughts and opinions and concerns and just everything.  there is too much.  and the Mind never stops.  NEVER STOPS.
So now you know all my secrets.
I want out; I know I don’t need this.
Can you find me friends that don’t rank me on what I’ve been through?
The more battle scars, the more attention it gets you.
Don’t tell the others, but it’s all getting old.
but I Like it; rather I  Need it.  I hold on to it.  I don’t move past it.  because I’m scared about what’s beyond me, what’s More than me, what is -Without Me-.
I meant it when I said,
“I wanna get well! I wanna get well!”
Are the rest of you so content?
Stay where you are, but it hurts like hell.
And I’m sure it’s fun at first;
test your pulse, and check your vitals.
If it’s only a Game, you lost me.
I quit it with the Suicidal Recital.

shit.  I can’t even pretend I know the original direction this post was going in…..
I was lost.  hopeless.  depressed.  so many of those Old and Comforting Feelings I had.  but Brian suggested I Write instead of mope.  Write.  how often do I Write anymore?  and what of that which I Write even matters anymore?  I mean, none of it really.  at least back then, it was the Truth as per a small child whose life was important.  now I’m adult who’s thrown off on her own and matters not.
Yeah, we should’ve known it would End this way.
What did you expect? — pretend it all Away?
And all we’ve got left is a sorry pile of hearts.
I’m getting out — gonna write myself a new Start.
Come on, dry your eyes, meet me on the other side.
Run as fast as you can, and we’ll make it out alive.
We know better now; we don’t have to live like This.
Go tell them all we don’t have to live like This.

SURPRISE ME.

let me go.
let me FREE.

https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/Z9fGKx7yzF4?rel=0

let me not wake tomorrow.

I’m tired of this Battle again.

it’s the same War I’ve been fighting for so long.

LET ME GO!!!

 

WELL HELLO, CRAZY NOISE

WELL HELLO, CRAZY NOISE!!
> THANKS FOR CHECKING IN.

SO YOU THINK WE SHOULD SLICE OUR ARMS AND BLEED, JUST TO PROVE WE ARE ALIVE?
> okay.

SO WE SHOULD SLIT OUR NECK ACROSS ITSELF TO SHOW OUR OWN STRENGTH AND DETERMINATION?
> sounds great.

OR MAYBE I CAN JUST JUMP INTO TRAFFIC, DRIVE INTO THE ONCOMING, OR SHOOT OURSELVES OFF THE CLIFF.
>  perfect plan.

_____________________________________________

did you disagree?  because I didn’t?

I suspect tomorrow will be fine.

but I’m seriously running out of “bad days” that don’t get logged as “last days”.

____________________________________________

SEE ALSO:

the Final Day is ideal,

desired,

perfect,

heavenly,

HOPE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

please allow it to come soon … or even better ASAP…..

medicinal cocktails

saw my psychiatrist again a few nights ago.  I was fairly open about how things are starting to get really bad again.  I mean, they’re not there yet.  but I’m going to bed at 7:30pm just to avoid being alive/awake, I Cut again early last week (only just told Brian about it last night), et cetera.  Brian and I haven’t been very close recently, so I don’t think he’s really noticed.  or if he has, he hasn’t said much.  there’s a big Taboo issue that we should talk about at some point; I inadvertently allowed that to create some distance between us.  and then with that distance, I’m reclusing [how is that not a word?  “to beor to have the qualities of a recluse”] more; and with my reclusion [I realize I may be taking that one a bit too far], I push him away more; et cetera, et cetera.

923876723_orig

anyway.  I saw the psych and was generally honest about how it’s getting bad again.  I mentioned how ceasing to take any of my medication entirely — like, cold-turkey stopping — had recently crossed my mind as a genuine course of action.  that alone is a sign that things are shitty and cannot continue as they are.  but during that consideration I recalled the last few times I “got off my meds” and all the chaos that it evoked.  so I pushed that aside as a “last option right before suicide” step.

I also discussed with her about how I’m tired all the time.  I’m going to bed at 8pm, waking up at 6:45 or 7am, and I’m still so exhausted every day.  I’m sleeping fine enough; I’m just not resting.  honestly, the only reason I’m getting this post pumped out is because I had a manic burst at work and had to focus the energy into something that wouldn’t matter much if I fucked up (versus incorrectly writing checks at work or something).  with this post started, I’ll have to finish it; do it due diligence, ya know?; even if, albeit, several days later.

my psychiatrist’s solution, bless her heart, is to add more medication.  I mean, what else can she do?  I’m trying to exercise, I see a therapist bi-weekly, I’m eating fairly well balanced, I’m still attempting to make plans with friends (keeping them is the difficult part), I’ve been keeping away-ish from the alcohol (much better than usual!), et cetera.  I even have one of those little sun lights/light therapy lamps.  her theory is that if I’m doing all of that, it must be chemical; so more meds will fix that.  I don’t necessarily agree that additional medications will help.  but we’re on a down slope as is; so even even-keel would be great.

meds

so, my new cocktail is as follows:

Prescriptions

  • Albuterol Sulfate (Proair HFA):  90 mcg; as needed
  • Alprazolam (Xanax):  0.5 mg; as needed
  • Aripiprazole (Abilify):  10 – 20 mg; once mornings
  • Bupropion HCL Er (Welbutrin):  150 mg; once mornings
  • Divalproex Sodium ER (Depakote):  250 mg; once mornings, three nights
  • Gabapentin (?):  300 mg; once mornings, once nights
  • Norgestimate/Ethinyl Estradiol (MonoNessa):  0.250 mg/0.035 mg; once mornings
  • Nortriptyline HCL (Aventyl/Pamelor):  10 mg; once mornings, once afternoons
  • Ropinirole (Requip):  0.5 mg; once nights

Vitamins & Supplements

  • Antihistamine:  25 mg; once mornings
  • B-12:  1000 mcg; once mornings
  • C:  1000 mg; once mornings
  • Cranberry:  4200; once nights
  • D3:  2000 IU; twice mornings
  • Iron:  65 mg; once mornings  (additional 65 mg at night when menstruating)
  • Melatonin:  6 mg; as needed
  • Pehenazopyridine Hydrochloride (via Azo/i-Health):  97.5 mg; as needed

 

think I’m on enough pills….?

self-mutilation and suicidal ideations  while in your 30s

so, here I am. awake. despite the begiing and pleading and bargaining with Great Powers-That-Be.

and I forgot to make my SI pack to bring to work. erg.

what 30-year-old still struggles with self-injury and personal inadaquecies quite like this?  I mean, I know SI isn’t actually something that’s restricted to a particular age group or anything, and it can some in any forms for any persons.  but really. who in their thirties is still getting fresh scars…?  by now, there’s better coping skills and the like. how am I still using a blade to deal?

and though it’s mainly becoming cutting, it’s not and rarely was restricted to just that.  hair-pulling and hitting are actually my most common; they leave minimal marks and require no additional tools.
I think that aas I’ve gotten older, as I’ve become less religious and black-and-white, I’ve come to idealize suicide even more.  while ypunger and strong in my faith, religion said suicide was wrong, and thus out was.  then I got to a point wherein I believed that it should be discouraged, but still an option.  these days, as stated in a previous post, I’m almost confused as to why I haven’t really done it yet.  time changes your perspective, yes; but in what direction?

that traffic sure looks mighty fine

why the fuck did I think I could do this?

over the weekend, in an attempt to offer me advice and encouragement, Brian commeneyed, “it’s just like school. so you know what you have to start doing again, right?”  I responded, with mostly sincerity, “cutting…?”
after laughing at the delivery and despite himself, he disagreed. “study.”

and he’s right. except there’s no homework examples to be bringing home; it all must be learnt in the lab. and the entire process is very specific to this firm. they way they have certain accounts broken up, etc.

I can tell my supervisor was very frustrated with my performance this afternoon. I royally fucked up shit. I mean, we got it sorted out. but still, I forced him to have to do twice as much work on a task he shouldn’t have been having to do any.

they want me to become a notary public. this was not mentioned in the job interview. I don’t think I can, on account of the DUIs.

I almost walked in front of a speeding car this afternoon. on purpose. is that being parasuicidal again? I mean, I obviously didn’t do it. but there was a legit jerk in my step wherein I had to remind myself that supposedly suicide is not the answering.

which is fair. because I think suicide is the question. and for me, the answer should be “yes”.
instead, I’ll go home and cut a lot. or drink. (I try not to combine them anymore.) I also intend to make an SI travel pack again — blade, bandaids, and tiny neosporin. stays in the purse. for emergencies of the self-hatred kind.

the hardest thing ever

the hardest thing ever

is hating yourself so fucking much

when you know other people love you just as much.

 

at the end of the day,

whose emotions/feelings deserve more weight??

 

they love me. I should stay alive.

no one loves me as much as I Hurt. should I be forced to hatng around…

FOR YOU????