Something isn't quite right.

And I can't quite figure out what it is.

Funny five minutes are quite acceptable in life, when indeed they are funny five minutes; lasting for five minutes. Funny five days however, are rather annoying; especially when one has no justification for said strange behaviour or indeed, any idea when said strange behaviour will end.

I want my God damn time machine already!

Shouting random words, repeating "that's what she said!" far too many times and generally being oddd is not cool.

I'm being too weird, even for my standards, which is mighty impressive.

I don't like it.

-sulks-

No medication can cure the lost.

So, my doctor was pretty surprised yesterday when I told him that my super duper fancy meds aren't actually working. I wasn't shocked at all, personally; I gave up long ago on the idea that medication can fix me. I have a knack for developing things with no cure. Hell, I was born with one for starters.

Hah. Nimnar the Incurable - that should so be a title you can earn on WoW.

After asking me, "So, how's life? How's life really? Is it worth living at the moment? Answer me honestly." Followed by my simple response of, "I don't live, I exist" He decided to up my dose AGAIN. What happened to variation people? It's obviously not wokring. Change your approach. Seriously. I know it's not going to work but hell, it might make me feel better if you're actually attempting to do something. But oh no, this drug is amazing bla bla bla, it will help you soon enough bla bla bla. Well, not if I kill myself before it does anything, Bellend.

Jesus, what the fuck happened to the NHS.

In other news, my sunburn is peeling like a bitch, my kitchen smells vile, I have too much work to do, my lecturer is failing to get back to me about said work, but my toilet is clean.

I freaking love my life.

The soundtrack to my life.

Music has always been important in my life. It's one of those things which I can experience to exactly the same extent as everybody else, and I like that, but that's not the point I'm trying to make. There is a piece of music suitable for every ocassion of my life - whether I'm having the best fucking day ever, or if I'm having one of those days when re-splodging the toilet duck thing in my toilet is the highlight of my life.

Anyway. I like music, it's something I rely on a lot, not as much as I used to, but a lot - possibly because it can never disappoint. (I'm not referring to the radio here, merely my own collection of music. Terrible as it is, we get on.) There was a time in my life when music was in fact the most important thing I had, or even the only thing I had. I kind of miss those days.

Sometimes I'd listen to a song and be like, "Yeah, I like that song, it's cool, I wanna learn to play that" and I would. I'd sit down, see if I could figure it out for myself - if I couldn't I'd find it online and piss about until I could play it. There was something incredibly simple and satisfying in it. It was also ridiculously fun, more so considering I was a somewhat moody teenager and got a great amount of pleasure from re-tuning my snare when my parents irritated me. Haha. Oh, to be fourteen again.

When that went to shit I bumped into my Green Day CD's and stayed attached to them for a long, long while - I wont mention anymore on those for I think we all know too much already. Green Day, amongst other bands, provided me with something to do - and indeed became my voice for a good two and a half years until I bumped into my current bunch of friends. Or rather until fleenface bumped into me. Regardless, without music I genuinely would have had nothing (nothing I would have regarded with much importance anyway) between the age of 15 and 17, which I think is kind of scary.

It was a very simple, if not miserable existence; nothing changed, nothing moved on, nothing turned around and slapped me in the face, nothing waited until I turned around and kicked me in the arse. It was simple. And I kind of liked it like that.

Music still does play a crucial part in my life (pun not intended). But when I have my time machine I certainly will enjoy going back to a time when I could play some truly awful things on my shitty drum kit of doom.

Aah. What a lovely, nostalgic post.

In other news I have no fags. I miss fleenface. And my quests on Wow are shite. Overall, I'm not very impressed.

Go then, there are other worlds than these..

I want to find a door, just as Jake did.

And when I find it I don't think I'm coming back; unless there's a dead baby stapled to a chicken..

The last month of my life

has been.. interesting?

I believed I was in love with a man. A boy. My firend. Whatever. For a moment of my life I believed I was in love. I refused. Love does bad things to dinosaurs. It screws us over. It's better kept away. And that's cool with me. Dinosaurs are solitary creatures. Being the last remaining dinosaur allows me to create these facts, and I like that, I can define myself and a whole species all at the same time. It's fun. Anyway, I'm straying from the subject. A few weeks ago, I genuinely believed I had fallen into the trap for the second time in my life. I was terrified. I shared this information with nobody, and attempted to keep it away from myself.

After spending a few days with the guy, after having not seen him in over a year, I realised I was wrong. I was in love with the idea of him. With the idea of not being lonley. With the idea of potentially forgetting my many fucked up issues with personal contact. Maybe even with the idea of falling love again. I had fallen in love with an idea. That certainly is a new one.

Maybe I do want to have somebody to share the rest of my life with. I don't know. All I know is currently the part of me who used to win, still does. The part of me adamant to push people away before they choose to leave is still there. I think it might have even grown. I thought it had shurnk, my bad.

Sorry if you're reding this willosaurus, you make a good dinosaur, if I wasn't one I might have even believed you were one.

I'm too fucked up for relationships, because I want to be. At least that's what I tell myself. I might have even convinced myself.

Roads to Safe Places

Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need.

First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind's way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.

Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying 'time heals all wounds' is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.

Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.

Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.

Patrick Rothfuss is nothing short of a legend.

Literature makes me happy.
Fiction holds truth, just as madness holds salvation.

Everyone has a coping mechanism.

What's yours?

And may I temporarily borrow it until I come up with a new one? Mine kinda left me. Or maybe I left it, who knows. Either way, I'm fucked considering that I currently seem to be reverting back into my sixteen year old self.

Ew.

Anyway, Warcraft is calling.