Friday, February 26, 2010

Day 3

The past two were hard, I kept prefacing all social interactions with an explanation that felt warranted. "I'm a little [hand gestures]... crazy." It was difficult to navigate temporarily losing my mind with trying not to annoy everyone; much of this was magnified paranoia/guilt. The world was a mosaic of pulsating psychedelic patterns with odd flashes of light in the periphery. The withdrawal gets you feeling feral, like an animal in a cage with a thorn in its paw; a rabid, squinting jaw-ache.

Today I am feeling like a soap-bubble. There is a lightness I have not felt, in retrospect, for about five years. I realized that I should correct my terminology, because as of yesterday I am not trying to quit, I am quit, it was always that simple, I was just afraid before. I have often found myself irrationally fearful of "change;" of "losing" things and selves. I have always been fearful of adjusting character descriptions, like I might jump my own proverbial shark by evolving too far off-center. If I change too many things I might lose track of the tenuous grasp I have upon my self-hood. This resulted in what could be described as festering. "Sarah can't fall asleep without drinking because she hurts. Sarah smokes cigarettes because she does not give a fuck." I don't hurt anymore, and I do give a fuck.

Unexpected things: My voice sounds deeper to me. I like breakfast. I like a little raw sugar in my coffee.

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