|Title:||In this one I say "fuckin'" a lot|
|Posted On:||2006-09-13 16:32:33|
Fuckin' hell. No more fuckin' weed for me. Absolutely, ever, again.
So, here I am, no internet access at home and having another panic attack. Went over to a friend's place and caught the tail-end of a documentary he'd done on extreme body piercing, followed by smoking a joint. Totally put me in a horrible state of mind.The soundtrack had part of one song playing, and that totally set me off on a negative thought loop. Should have eaten way before smoking a joint. Then I get home right in the middle of a sisters of mercy album.
I am so fucking emo.
It's crazy. I should have known this fucking shit would happen. I've got so much on my mind all the time that the slightest being stoned sends me into a negative thought loop, quite like bad-tripping on a little shrooms with no visuals. The last thing I needed to do was watch a video of a guy piercing his own dick while Inferno played in the background. Then I come home to catch some kind of stranger.
Sitting here hugging the fuck out of a pillow helps, but just a little.
I feel so fucking pathetic. I'm exactly the kind of person I want to hate.
I'm gonna go chill at Dave's place, I need to be as far away from stress as possible.
Fucking hell, woke up at 6am to get ready for my hospital appointment, and like a fucktard I fell back asleep before getting out of bed. In the 2 hours that I slept, I had a weird-ass dream that I was sitting
outside somewhere with Dave talking, and some guy just walked up to us and pulled out a gun and threatened to shoot me unless I left. So I got up, left, and as I'm walking away some redneck cowboy-wannabe looking
guy walks up to me with a gun in a holster that's got a pair of redneck-cop mirrorshades clipped on, gives it to me and says something to the effect of "You shouldn't let people get away with shit like that", and then I woke up.
Then, today, at around 1pm there's a shooting at Dawson.
Got to the hospital on time, even though I got lost on the way. Fucking doctors, I swear they could try to do a little more to re-assure people. I think I spent less than 10 minutes talking to this guy who looked like some kind of albert einstein wannabe with a wacko
moustache. "Yup, sounds like irritable bowel syndrome. Eat more fibre, avoid all stress. Look the rest up on the internet. Come see me in a month"
The fact that I've spent nearly every day for the past 3 months in pain and/or pretty major disscomfort doesn't seem to mean much, no explanation of anything, no tips or advice, just in and out as fast as possible. I thought doctors were supposed to make you feel better, not treat you like a number on a list.
And now, more problems with getting my welfare checks. Fuckin' yay.