Why brain, Why? *sob*

I just woke up. Like most of the times when I wake up in the current state I’m in, I’m super-duper confused, and for some reason asking myself questions.

Where am I?
What is my name?
Do I like pudding?
Are my legs still legs or have I turned into a giant spider?

Ok, I must admit the last question isn’t really on my list, I just thought of it, but I usually have some weird question going through my mind like ”Are the gecko’s still on the ceiling?” or ”Please translate the following Latin text libera eas de ore leonis into English and how is it relevant for the piece it is found in?”(I’m really not kidding, my brain has managed to ask me these kind of questions.)

… Ew I just got a mental imagine of me with super long and hairy spider legs getting out of bed and seeing it in the mirror… I am screaming internally and trying not to gouge my eyes out. Which I did when I saw my face and had to slap two hands over my mouth and close my eyes in order not to wake the entire neighbourhood up. I have since then calmed down somewhat.

I just managed to fall asleep… ok that was a lie, it was around 3 in the morning, but why do I have to be super awake at 5? I try to fall back asleep, something that is usually very easy for me since I sleep very long hours and very deeply, and I know I still have a few hours before my doctor’s appointment. And I know that even if I fall asleep I won’t be late because I have lots and lots of alarms that will wake me up in about 2 hours. Brain refuses to go back to sleep. After trying an entire 5 minutes, I get up. My brain is wired. Like 30 cups of coffee and caffeine pills wired. So I get up, get myself some water, put on some music and start writing. I feel crazy. Like Harley Quinn and the Joker falling in love crazy.

Yesterday was… hell. I don’t remember the last time I felt that angry at everything. I’m usually angry and want to smash things, but yesterday it became more difficult to control the impulse.

Yes, I am quite impulsive. But you don’t usually see it. Which is why people doubt me when I say I have an illness. Which is fine by the way. Doubt away, but don’t mention it to my face. It’s like mentioning ”I have a dog” and then being told ”that’s your imagination, because you’re a crazy person who wants attention”. (Scratch that, most people actually say that to me.) My brain will not allow me to let it go. I will rise to the challenge just a tiny bit, then sit back, deflated and ashamed, talk about other things, and then when I am alone (and often about to go to sleep) I start weeping uncontrollably and feel like a liar. There is nothing worse than feeling that you are lying about who you are. So instead I actually lie, or tell people I’m kidding at the end of every sentence, so they never actually know if I’m lying.

I am extremely sensitive, I will cry over everything.

”You’re plant died.”
”The dog barked.”
”We’re waiting for you in the car.”
”You sound too formal when you speak.”
”Your favourite show is on.”
”You can’t pronounce anything correctly in Korean/Japanese/English.”
”I like chocolate.”

It takes less than that. And I’m being serious, the last time someone said any of these things to me, I had to lie down on the first flat surface where I wouldn’t be killed by oncoming cars, trains, planes or stampeding giraffes/water buffalo’s and cried as quietly as I could. When asked what was wrong I answered ”nothing” and that I ”wanted to cry”.

Seriously?! Who wants to cry?(Anyone who answered ”yes” to that question, deny it right now.) I don’t know about you but my face weighs about 5 times what it’s supposed to and makes me look like Gollum. Who would want something like that? … Unless you are imitating Gollum for some reason, then go ahead and cry your heart out. The crackling voice that you get afterwards really makes you and the character one.

A demonstration:

Yesterday I was on the bus, minding my own business, listening to music as loud as I could (because I can, that’s why) and saw a little girl, around 6 or 7 I think, sitting with her mother (who had a cello case with her, you know, one of these huge violin things that you ”rest on a friend” to play according to Eddie Izzard) and her grandmother. They were all talking and seemed to be explaining things to the girl who didn’t want to listen, but they were kind about it, patient so she could understand what they wanted to say. I had the urge to burst into tears, grab the kid by the shoulders, yell ”they are a real family!”, hug her like a teddy bear and then run away screaming, waving my arms hysterically in the air. I really wanted to… but I didn’t. I have a normal family, I had a normal upbringing. So why would I do these things? Why would I feel the need to do them? Why does water taste so strange? Why does the picture of the baby elephant with ducks or chickens or whatever the hell it is make me bawl? So many unanswered questions.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, I came home super tired, tried to sleep. Failed. Tried to sleep again and failed again. Finally managed to fall asleep and woke up two hours later and tadaa! Here I am. Awake but half asleep, most senses impaired and brain trying to translate Latin. It’s nowhere near accurate, but you gotta go with the flow… right?

…There is a bird outside of the window I think. Or somewhere close by. It thought it would be nice and sing me the song of its kind. It won’t be trying that again.

Ha ha birdie, ha ha.

… I threw a shoe at it.

*runs away bawling, waving arms in the air and slowly morphing into Gollum*

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