I can’t help but wonder what gets into me some days. not that today is not one of the “some” days, but I wonder why I want to go skydiving so much. i look at other blogs and receive the most beautiful comments from people who technically don’t know me from Brintey Spears and I feel ashamed to want to die. But I can’t help it. the pain suffocates and feels like I’ll never get out of it.

Others write that they have, a merciful chocolate, I hope they are right. because if they are right, then i have a chance. if they are truly recovered/recovering, that’s shows it’s possible. tina is always in the mind saying how it will never last, theirs or ours; have we not have up’s before, only to crash and have major problems.

Spring is around the corner, at least in the South which is where I live. A southern peach. Spring has always been a time of turmoil and I know I remember back to the wicked, hell of a hourse and dreading the leaves on the trees because that meant exposure. Most of my suicides attempts, hospitalizations, and just frankly bad times have been in Spring, so I worry. But I will hold on to Reading Rainbows words as a salve. They came just when I needed them.

There is a problem with my medication and I don’t know what it is. I deal with D.I.D. but I also deal with a herniated disc, L5 S1. The pain, without medication, is unbearable and doens’t allow me to function. For some reason, my body feels like it is going through withdrawals. Shakes, visual disturbances, tremors, stomach problem (no compalaint there.) All this time I thought it was general anxiety because I am taking my pain patches as prescribed. I learned the hard way not to mess with them. So why I would have withdrawal symptoms is beyond me. Except for one thing. The nurse asked if I was eating enough and said that the patch works on body heat and if you’re not eating there’s no body heat so my patches might not be releasing enough medication. All is well. I can just switch back to pills. They’re even deadlier.

See that bull shit talk. Can’t get over it. I didn’t mean to blog this early in the day. I haven’t been able to get ANY school work done so I have to write a new piece for school entitled “Where I’m From.” I already had tears with the professor. This will be a hard one. I don’t want to say “we” but I don’t want to write “me.” Unfair. I hear the littles.