I want to get off.

Because I still panic when I notice the passage of time.

Like, for instance, today is Thursday. But to me, it feels like Sunday was yesterday. It therefore feels like I “lost” four days somehow, and that makes me panic.

There’s that “oversensitivity to loss” that seems to haunt me.

Because the thing is, you can only ever lose time. The moments pass and are gone forever, and them bam, you’re one step closer to the grave.

And I am well aware that my days are numbered and the number isn’t very high. I highly doubt I will live to see my 60th birthday. Not with the way things are going.

I do what I can to preserve my existence, but it’s not enough. My muscles continue to get weaker and weaker and soon I will be stuck in a wheelchair, and not too long after that, a hospital bed, and after that… after I have gasped out my last in terror and agony all alone and full of tubes as even the muscles that let me breathe abandon me – the next stop is my sad, pathetic grave.

I’ll miss me.

I know all this, but because I am all broken inside, it does not do what it should do, which is to fire me up to make the absolute most of every minute I have left in order to catch up to all the living I have never ever done.

But nope. All it really does is make me want to withdraw into myself harder than ever before and hide from the world until the end comes.

Not going to do that, I don’t think. But part of me wants to.

And now that I am uncorking all my old latent emotions, I have to contend with that part of me openly, and that’s not easy.

But I can’t go back to being numb. I am finally waking up inside and I am thrilled by every new feeling or sensation as I am finally coming to life after all these years.

The sleeper awakens. The dreamer stretches his limbs and looks around, trying to remember what the real world is like.

And the court jester laughs at the folly and the joy of it all.

Today was Therapy Thursday. Talked with Doc Costin about how a big part of me was sealed off when I was raped at the age of 4 and how I have beena cripple ever since.

So, for my entire life, more or less.

That’s what happens when you withdraw from the world like I did. The vast majority of your being becomes locked away in that special place in your mind that you created when what was happening in the real world was so horrible, and you were so helpless, that all you could do was run away inside yourself.

And that big ol’ wound left by the rape has been festering away all this time, poisoning me and all I do and tainting me in a dark and horrible way.

Still, given all that, I have done remarkably well by just not being a serial killer.

It’s a low bar, but I take my W’s where I can.

But it is time to escape my own shadow and face the light. And hold myself in place until my eyes adjust rather than screeching and going scurrying back into my hole.

It might take a long time. But I swear to God, I WILL return.

And when I do, this world will never be the same. I am going to unleash all the magic I have stockpiled over the years and let me tell you, things are going to change.

I can hardly wait.

More after the break.

I shouldn’t be doing this…

..but I am not going to eat supper tonight.

I have absolutely no appetite at the moment and the very idea of trying to force myself to eat makes me feel nauseous and dizzy, so nope. no supper tonight.

Not even going to bother going to the kitchen to make myself something.

I have enough stuff left over from lunch that I can improvise a crappy but acceptable meal, and that will be what is waiting for me if my appetite returns.

And it might. I am plying myself with water and nibbling a little on trail mix. It is entirely possible that this will get things started.

I will tell you one thing : I am beginning to worry about how high stakes and demanding my hydration game has become.

I have to drink water almost constantly just to break even. I have been assuming that it has something to do with my Jardiance and its magical ability to smuggle excess blood sugar out of my bloodstream via my urine stream, but I don’t know for sure.

It would make sense though. Before Jardiance I had high blood sugar for some reason{{!}}. and now I don’t. Ergo, there must be a fair bit of sugar smuggling going on, and that takes a lot of urine, and that, in turn, takes a lot of hydration.

But it’s becoming downright stressful. Having to go get more water from the tap in my ensuite all the time is a hassle and a pain in the ass. Ditto with having to empty my pee receptacle four times a god damned day.

Moreover, I worry about what risks I am taking with my health. I don’t like feeling like I live on the thin edge of dehydration all the time. I feel like at any time, I could be too lazy to get more water (dehydration robs you of energy) and end up in some kind of negative spiral where I get really seriously medically dehydrated and thus end up in a 911 kind of situation.

I suppose I could ask Julian to get me more water. But I would feel silly doing that when my ensuite’s sink is like three paces away.

I am sure I will figure it all out.

Oh, And yeah. I do have a little bit of appetite now.

Guess I was dehydrated all along.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

[[1]] Must be the lack of exercise because my diet is quite good. [[1]]