Entry 19

So this week I'm sick.

Like as in the actual sick again, where I have the flu. I've been throwing up a lot and I really just sort of want to sleep.

Murdoch is a douche. I'm sick and he just keeps coming over and asking me about this stuff I don't want to talk about. Like he comes in and asks me "Have you ever wished death on anyone?"

Who even asks those sorts of things? Especially when the person you're talking to is leaning over a bucket and so sick she can barely sit up in bed.

Asshole. I don't wish death on people. It's not like that sort of thing is synonymous with schizophrenia. I always feel worse when he's around.

Peg and Miss Millman have been talking about talking me back up to the lake when I get better. Murdoch has been telling them that taking me out of my usual environment could make me explode or something, whatever, he's an idiot so I don't care what he thinks. Millman seem to think it might do my some good so I'm going to stick with the therapist who actually seems to know what she's talking about thank you.

Peg doesn't seem all that hyped about the idea and I assume that's because Murdoch has been poisoning the well. She says she doesn't know if being up there would do much good psychologically, but I think she agrees with Millman for the most part.

When you have a sickness like mine, everyone treats you like you're a loaded bomb. It gets pretty old. I'd really like to go back to the lake. I miss it. Might be fun to get away and stop having to be me for while. Although there's the chance that being me might ruin the whole thing, and I'll spazz out again. Break another window and get lost in my own head again.

I hate being me. I really do.

Entry 18

Hi.

So, yeah. I've been gone a while.

I guess all that stuff with Trent was gonna catch up with me sooner or later.

I suppose the best way to put it is that last week I had the worst episode of my life.

Now, let me clarify here, most of the time when I have an episode I tend to black out. Well, not really black out, but I lose focus. After I have an episode I usually have a hard time remembering it afterwards. It's all very fuzzy and Freudian reason, I just can never access it like other memories.

Except for this particular episode.

Oh no, I remembered everything. Every solitary detail.

And it just kept going, and going, and going...

I was sitting at the kitchen table and I was carving this dumb pumpkin Peg brought home for me from the store, and I just...I don't know.

All of a sudden it was like the floor and the kitchen and everything just melted away and I was knee deep in the bog and there was this thing like twenty feet away from me. It wasn't human whatever it was and the two of us just stared at each-other. I don't think I've ever been so scared, not ever. It felt like I couldn't breathe and I finally just started running and calling for help and it felt like I was running for days, and I never got anywhere. Just mud, and water, and trees, and the thing behind me and I knew it was reaching for me, and it was so damn real.

And then I woke up. I was lying in a hospital bed and Peg was there and God I can't even.

I've never once in my life been catatonic like that. According to the everyone else I just collapsed and froze up with my eyes open like I was having a night terror. I was like that for almost three days too. They've had me in the ward ever since. I just got home today.

I now have this other therapist...person, besides Millman who's been asking me questions and bugging me. His name is Mr. Murdoch, (And seriously Millman the guy is a creep. What is his job again? Stare at me in an uncomfortable manner?) Yeah...He's a piece of work. Don't know what he did to become a therapist, because not one thing about that guy makes me want to cozy up to him and talk about my feelings. 

Speaking of feelings it feels nice to be blogging again, feels familiar. Everything has been pretty weird since I snapped.

It's really scary, because I know that for a while there I was completely gone. It was like I was dead.

Well, looks like I'm not going to get to go to college any time soon, if at all.

It felt so real though, everything. I even knew the Bog it was the same one in the park just ten or so miles from my house.

I don't know Millman, and that's the thing, I'll never know. As far as I can tell I may still be catatonic and this is all in my head. Maybe it was always all in my head, and maybe somewhere Peg or my parents or someone is sitting with me while I'm wrapped up in a straight jacket in an asylum somewhere, and I'll never know. That's what scares me about this. I just don't know...

Entry 17

I went looking some stuff up. I think Trent might have been a fan of this independent horror game called Slender, according to the vast knowledge of the internet. It seems like the sort of thing he would've been in to. It has this big following. I've never heard of it, but it hey, Horror's neat. Not that I would know anything about that.

And yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Millman's in my ear right now telling me that looking up scary stuff on the internet is a great way to wind up back in the ward but it's not like I'm not already thinking about it so I might as well put my worries to rest. And to assure you that all is well I've got another prompt for you.

Describe a Recipe for Happiness

*Insert audience laugh track here* I picked the most ridiculously perky one of them all just for you. :)

Start by preheating the day's temperature somewhere around seventy degrees, and be sure to arrange for a slightly spring cloudy day.

Do not under any circumstances add worry, stress, or schizophrenic related anxiety to any part of the recipe.

Begin by waking up bright and early to the smell of Ego Waffles in the toaster, (blueberries in the waffles are optional.)

After cleaning off the dishes, go out for a stroll around the park. Remember to bring bread crumbs for the baby ducklings.

Next you must stop by the garden shop and, for a change of pace, buy flowers instead of pots.

Hurry home and begin planting.

For Lunch use only the finest nutella and crackers you have in your possession and set up a small outdoor picnic.

After that, curl up with a good book. Preferably a childhood classic such as Peter Pan, or Winnie the Pooh (Or Frankenstein, ha ha ha.)

Cook elaborate fancy pasta dinner for beloved aunt before she returns home, (points for every witty remark the two of you make when it goes up in smoke.)

Order pizza.

Retire early to the den and watch Singing in the Rain, whilst sipping some fancy Lipton tea.

Fall asleep on the couch, preferably with someone you care about.

Serves one Milla. 

I gotta say Millman. Being a mental invalid can be the most awful thing some times, but it has it's moments. I wish I could make days like this happen, but the worry and stress bit never seems to go away. It's tough not being gloomy sometimes, but I'm doing my best. Peg always says you should rest your worries on the floor before bed and then deal with them in the morning. Maybe that's all I need to finally get some damn sleep.

Maybe I should go back to the ward for a while, I don't know. I need to talk with you about it on Wednesday. I'll see you then. 

Entry 16

This week has been one long dark tunnel of sleepless suck; sleepless being the worst thing about it. According to Ms. Millman it's a natural response to death and most of this week has been spent on relaxation exercises that are supposed to help me deal with the grief or stress or whatever it is plaguing my psyche. I went and got a facial. A damn facial! What was that even supposed to do? Are my pores filled with neurotoxins?

Ughh...Sorry, I'm supposed to be talking about my feelings, but there isn't really anything interesting or unprecedented there. I feel tired, and guilty, and upset, and lots of negative things.

I had another episode this week. I don't even remember it because I was sleep walking, but I was flipping out and somehow I managed to smash the majority of my flower pots, which isn't a huge tragedy because I didn't really like them anyway, but still. I've had a couple other night terrors, and Ms. Millman's suggesting I go back to the ward for a while. It feels like I just got out though.

In other news, I finally went through that box Trent's mom gave me. It was...interesting, and by that I mean completely one hundred percent creepy. Sure there was my ratty old jacket, and some cards I'd sent him, but then there was this shoe box with my name on it. He had medical files in there! My medical files!

What. The. HELL?

How did he even? It doesn't make sense! The only thing I can imagine he did was copied them at some point when he was at my house, which would have meant he had stolen them at one point. This puts an entirely different spin on our relationship, and once again, I feel no remorse for egging his house. I don't know if that makes me an asshole or what but...How dare he! HOW DARE HE. What did he even want to do with those? Why would he feel the need to take them? Did he just want to see how much of a nutball I was? Verify that claim? Was that why he dumped me? It doesn't make sense.

He had other weird stuff in there too like one of my better pots, (which for some reason did not get smashed in my sleeping escapade,) and about a pound of paper he had scribbled all over. It was messed up, with all these circles with X's in it. It's like something right out of one of those thrillers I don't watch, and it is freaky as hell.

I...just, I'm so angry about the whole thing, and I guess I have a right to be. Peg told me there's not a lot I can do about it now, and she's right. I called Trent's mom to ask about the papers and while we were talking about it she started crying so I let it go. That's the right thing to do, right? I shouldn't go around stirring up things I can't change, but now what happened to Trent is all I can think about anymore and I just

I need to calm down and get some sleep is what I need. So yeah. Whatever. 

Entry 15

Here's a nugget of knowledge that I feel needs to be shared.

When you're angry at someone, for any reason whatsoever, you shouldn't go out and try and get revenge. Like egging their house for example. That was the last time I think I ever really saw Trent, and I was at my absolute worst. And now that he's gone it's really hard knowing that, that was how things ended between us. It's awful that his death was all it took for me to see that it was a bad decision on my part, and maybe that's why I felt obligated to go to his wake.

I didn't want to spend a lot of time there because again, everyone present already sort of knew about the egging. I guess I also just don't like the general atmosphere of funerals, but then again, who really does? There were some kids I knew from my High School there, and we talked a little. I think most of them were surprised I came.

A couple of them were speculating on how Trent died and one of them mentioned they thought it had something to do with drugs. I did hear he was cremated, which is a little odd because I was almost positive his family would have wanted to bury him. It was when people started getting into the details of how his body looked when it was found, that I decided to go. But not before paying my respects to his parents. I wanted to apologize for the eggs and make it clear I really was sorry for their loss.

They seemed glad I'd apologized, or as glad as they could seem. His mom said that she had some things for me that he had kept, like on of my sweatshirts. I got them came in the mail two days ago but I'm not exactly in the mood to go through them.

I don't know why Trent broke up with me, but the more I think about it, I suppose I must not have made things easy for the two of us. Whatever it was, that was his choice, and I should have respected it, rather than trying to get back at him. He didn't deserve to die.

I haven't been able to sleep this week, I really need to try and put this out of my mind.

Entry 14

Wow. So. Yesterday something really awful happened.

A couple of times on this blog I think I mentioned my ex. I probably called him an asshole because, yeah I'm not going to deny it he was a pretty big asshole. His real name is, or was Trent.

He was murdered yesterday.

Yeah, I just found out yesterday evening, in kind of a freaky way. The police came over to inform me, which is a nice way of saying they wanted to make sure I hadn't flown off then handle and murdered him in cold blood. Can't blame them. If I found a dead kid, the first person I'd talk to would be the angry schizophrenic ex also.

Don't worry though, I haven't gone farther than across the street since I got back from the hospital, and I was helping Peg take inventory last night so my alibi checks out. They weren't all that happy though to hear about my recent relapse. Like I said, can't blame them.

Apparently what happened was he didn't come home a few days ago and no one knew where he was. Then this morning, some park ranger or something found his body floating in the swamp. I don't know all the details but apparently however he died it wasn't exactly...pleasant. The police said something about mutilation, which I guess is part of how they know it was murder.

This whole thing. I guess I feel kind of numb. I just, I didn't want that to happen. How could I? I've been so mad at him for the last couple of years over what he did, but now I feel like I should really awful about that, but I don't. I feel sick.

I met Trent back when we were fifteen, and we started dating a little after that. He was cool, and sweet and really nice and he was one of those rare people didn't treat me like a time bomb. I really liked being around him, it felt easy. I don't get along really well with other people, and not just because of the schizophrenia thing. I've never been able to relate well to the people around me, not to mention never had much time with them to learn how, but him?  It just felt like the two of us hit the same wave length. There never was any drama between us or misunderstandings, not even a lot of fights. He was never hard to be around. Not ever. I mean...I thought he really liked me.

Then one day he started acting really weird. It was sporadic,  but everyone now and again he'd get really clingy and possessive, or he'd give me the cold shoulder. I couldn't figure out up was up with him, and he never wanted to talk about it when I asked him. Then one day we were at his place and we were hanging out and watching baseball or something and out of nowhere he sort of lost it and he called me a psychotic bitch and told me to get out. Then he just stopped talking to me all together. He didn't say one thing to me, just acted like I'd never existed. I wanted to ask him why he was upset but he just ignored me, and the entire thing was this big emotional mess I did not respond to with the grace I probably should have.

And now he's dead. What do I even do with that?
I think a part of me still wanted to be with him, at least the him I knew before he became an ass. I don't even know.

There's a funeral on Monday. Peg doesn't want me to go, but I think I probably should.  I don't know, I'm going to call Ms. Millman and see what she thinks.

We'll see how things go.

Entry 13

Happy October!

Here's a picture of a drunk pumpkin to set the mood.





 
Gotta love Halloween.

Last year I dressed up as a Salem Witch Trial victim, and this year I was thinking about maybe recycling that and dressing up as a Disney Princess. I could pull off Belle. Hell, my French is probably better than 99% of everyone who made that movie.
   
Anway, so the prompt list has been getting a little more abstract, which is why I'm not eager to come back to it. However, I asked for it so I might as well take what I got.

List Ten Things You Like About Yourself


I really hate these kinds of things. Not because I'm one of those people who can't even manage to come up with ten things I like about myself, but because they imply a person can separate themselves into individual qualities they do or do not like. I feel numerous things about all of my qualities, like I'm kind of a laid back person, and I like that about myself, but at the same time I feel like that can make me dispassionate. I am me, and all the qualities that make up my being have blended together into a gelatinous mush and there's no way to separate them into, "I like this," or "I don't like that."

To be honest, I think most of our opinions on ourselves are dependent on other people's opinion of you. If you're constantly being told that you are a bad person, whether it's your parents or God or your friends telling you, after a while you're going to believe it aren't you? That's why I think people get really hung up on what others think of them. You can tell yourself you're a good person, but if the majority vote says otherwise, who are you to argue?

And maybe that's just me who feels that way and maybe you actually can develop a real opinion of yourself, but for me, it's like the way your house smells. It smells weird and different to everyone who doesn't live there, but you don't notice it at all, so how can you judge it?

Also, finding things you like about yourself seems like a piss poor way to build self-esteem. Not that I really think I have any self esteem issues. I exist and it's what I do with my life that counts, not what I think about it.

So take that prompt!