In other words, I don’t have a clue as to what I want to write about.

It’s the classic situation where I have only been awake for 15 minutes and have not had the time to think of anything I wish to address, nor do I have one of my little story ideas, so I guess I am going to be winging it.

What the hell. I never end up talking about what I plan to talk about anyhow.

It’s the price I pay for having a mind that runs perpendicular to the mainstream. A creative kind of mind that follows the connection between things rather than some absolute sense of direction and thus never knows where it will end up.

It’s a powerful mode of thought but it does have its drawbacks, and one of them is having trouble picking a destination and sticking to it.

It’s like trying to cross a fast running stream. You might be aiming for a specific point on the opposite shore but the current pulls you where it will.

I have gone two days without quetiapine now. I will definitely be taking it tonight. I had a nice long talk with my therapist about it and he agreed that the side effects I am experiencing are a cause for worry, especially the akathisia, which is the feeling of intense inner tension and restlessness I get sometimes.

Although this time through, I notice that increased appetite is another side effect, and I have been blaming that on my diabetes. Hmmm.

Well I was definitely having that problem well before I went back on the big Q, so that can’t be the only cause.

But it’s god damned annoying and really wears on the nerves to be hungry – really hungry – all of the god damned time.

Anyhow. My therapist gave me a prescription for a second sleeping pill that I am to use three days a week in order to space out my doses of quetiapine. And who knows, maybe the new pill will be even better than quetiapine.

Don’t ask me what it’s called. I can’t read his goddamned handwriting.

Oh, and he explained to me why doctors use these weird atypical antipsychotics as sleep aids. It’s because they are non-addictive.

All the usual benzos and other typical sleep aids have addictive properties. They also have side effects much nastier than anything big Q has done to me.

But the real attention grabbing headline was that if you have sleep apnea, the benzos can straight up kill you.

Turns out that if you combine sleep apnea with a strong depressant like a benzodiazapine derivative, the respiration rate slowing of the depressant can gang up with the sleep apnea and make it so that one of those times I stop breathing in my sleep, I just plain never start again.

And that’s like one of my worst nightmares so uh, fuck that.

I don’t have the new drug yet because I haven’t been to the pharmacy yet because I am super frigging lazy,. But I took my last Paxil and my second-last Wellbutrin just now, so I am going to have to go tomorrow or risk going off my meds.

And when it comes to the ones propping up what little sanity I have, I am not crazy enough (heh) to fuck around.

What else.There is someone I am interested in online. We have been spending a lot of time together on Tapestries, and I really like being (virtually) around him, and he’s told me he looks forward to seeing me.

And that makes me so happy! Especially because I know it was not easy for him to say that. He’s a rather old school grumpy type and so that was a rare admission of vulnerability in this books.

He’s even talked about me visiting him. He even wants to take me to the House on the Rock, which is a crazy ass place I read about in a Neil Gaiman book once.

Read up on it, it’s insane, and I would love to go there.

But then last night when we are virtually hanging out together, his online “mate” logged in, and I realized, holy shit. here I am again.

Once more, I am someone’s side piece. When his mate showed up, I felt a terrible coldness descend on my heart like a killing frost and I was right back to where I was when I lived with the two Brians in Portland.

I would be there all cuddled up with little Brian, enjoying the exact kind of domestic bliss I have always dreamed about, and then big Brian would get home from work.

And the front door was quite close to the couch on which we were cuddled up, so he would end up both literallty and metaphorically bringing a cold wind with him.

And I don’t know if I can go through this again. I can’t be someone’s part-time lover. Especially not if I am expected to just drop everything when the person’s REAL mate shows up and disappear from the scene.

I can’t do that over and over. It’s too traumatic to me to go from warmth and closeness to the freezing cold of seperation and isolation.

And I can’t let myself be treated as disposable ever again.

So this guy I am into and I Need To Talk. I need to know whether he is actually interested in me or if I am just a nice warm place for him to rest and dream while his real lover isn’t around.

When it comes to love, I don’t share. Learned that the hard way. I need someone for whom I will be as important as they will be to me. I need to be someone’s number one priority, because they will definitely be mine.

I need to be the person who stays and the other person can be the person who feels awkward and frozen out so they leave.

Otherwise, as much as it would hurt, I gotta leave this guy behind.

Man, love can really suck, you know?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.