Warm potato soup is divinely scrumptious after a hellacious day.
(and that's a definite understatement.)
I almost ended up admitted into the looney bin again for denying treatment I felt was useless and could have easily been overcome without doctors and their white coats.
To add insult to injury my long time councilor told me she wouldn't continue to see me for denying such treatment. But honestly, what kind of treatment was I really receiving if she's going to turn her back on me now?
What B.S.
As I sit here there's a HUGE bowl of warm potato soup providing the therapy now. Man it's good, too good. Hold on, there's a spoonful anxiously waiting and I must partake in a bite.
MMMMMMM...Much better.
I can honestly say I am scared of the future, myself and scared stiff of all this shit that's surrounding me. When does it all stop?
This soup's speaking to me again. Hold on. Must have another bite. Mmmmm...
Maybe I should commit suicide in a giant tank of potato soup.
Death by glutney.
Death by soup.
Shit, people have death by chocolate all the time so why can't I by soup?
I'm delirious and over medicated from multiple panic attacks today and from finding out I'm even having these attacks in my sleep.
What the fudge nugget?
I'll wake up drenched in sweat thinking "Okay, I'm just hot," remove some sheets and proceed to pick up where I left off. Yet when this happens several times over leaving me in my birthday suit with the fan on overdrive there's a problem. Another problem yet to fix.
I always had the notion that sleep was when you're at peace but no, not me. Not my frickin' polar bears they're getting down and partying in the middle of the night.
Oh, the glorious life of coexistence with polar bears of the bipolar genealogy.
(and that's a definite understatement.)
I almost ended up admitted into the looney bin again for denying treatment I felt was useless and could have easily been overcome without doctors and their white coats.
To add insult to injury my long time councilor told me she wouldn't continue to see me for denying such treatment. But honestly, what kind of treatment was I really receiving if she's going to turn her back on me now?
What B.S.
As I sit here there's a HUGE bowl of warm potato soup providing the therapy now. Man it's good, too good. Hold on, there's a spoonful anxiously waiting and I must partake in a bite.
MMMMMMM...Much better.
I can honestly say I am scared of the future, myself and scared stiff of all this shit that's surrounding me. When does it all stop?
This soup's speaking to me again. Hold on. Must have another bite. Mmmmm...
Maybe I should commit suicide in a giant tank of potato soup.
Death by glutney.
Death by soup.
Shit, people have death by chocolate all the time so why can't I by soup?
I'm delirious and over medicated from multiple panic attacks today and from finding out I'm even having these attacks in my sleep.
What the fudge nugget?
I'll wake up drenched in sweat thinking "Okay, I'm just hot," remove some sheets and proceed to pick up where I left off. Yet when this happens several times over leaving me in my birthday suit with the fan on overdrive there's a problem. Another problem yet to fix.
I always had the notion that sleep was when you're at peace but no, not me. Not my frickin' polar bears they're getting down and partying in the middle of the night.
Oh, the glorious life of coexistence with polar bears of the bipolar genealogy.
