BABBLES

i'm restless and wanting to write again but i'm closed off and suffocated. i feel like my emotions are somehow less relevant because i cannot evidence them with angsty words. i'm hollowed out, cliched and trite. and of course, i want to cry. what's a night where i don't want to cry a little?

RUNNING

i feel like i've been running round in circles forever.

i'm always running so hard that i'm panting and pained by the time i end up here and every time i'm running fast, i think i'm fast enough and clever enough to run right past here but i never ever do.

i'm restless and unsettled. i'm overflowing with words that can't be strung together and thoughts that don't quite fully form. it's like i'm not quite sad but just thinking sad.

who can i love if i can't love you?

GOODBYE COOKIE

Cookie died yesterday of a bacterial infection and old age. She was 14 years old, rescued from a bad place and had silk for fur. Cookie had nightmares and would cry in her sleep. She wanted nothing more than to be loved and never felt like she was loved enough.

Meowzer and i will miss her dearly.

PERSPECTIVE

i've been having a really hard time comprehending the notion of time. one of my cats is sick and i took her to the vet yesterday. i had finally decided to change vets since our former one was out in vancouver and i haven't lived in the city for years. wow - and there it is again. time. i moved into this apartment 3 years ago. out of vancouver 6 years ago.

the vet asked me how old Cookie was. i did the math and was stunned. i guess i always knew but never really thought about it. my 2 other cats i took in while they were kittens. i know what day they were born. not Cookie tho. she was a stray headed for the chopping block. the vet guessed that she was about 7 at the time and no one wanted to adopt an old cat. that was 7 years ago. 14 cat years is approximately 85 human years. Cookie's a senior citizen.

i've got some perspective now and i'm worried.

fingers crossed.

where has all that time gone? when did my cat get old? when did i get so old?

HERE WE GO AGAIN

5 in the morning and i've been tossing and turning for hours. my zyban is totally fucking me up but it's the lesser of 2 evils. i feel like i'm high all day, like i can't quite focus on anything but i can't stop working. i can't stop doing things. i was burning thru the work at the office today. i came home and organized my computer files,then my dvd's, then re-alpha'd my books. then did my laundry and cleaned the washroom - like i broke out the gloves, down and dirty, cleaned the bathroom.

how long does this last for? it mellows out some point, right?

DEPRESSION

what is it about this hour and me? i've been having trouble sleeping all week. i don't want to do anything. i drag my ass around all day just waiting for it end and then at night i can't sleep.

there's something about the quiet and me.

i was looking at some old some old posts and have come to the conclusion that i am manic. i've always had a problem with depression but i never thought i was manicly so. manic depression is signified by extreme emotions. extreme ups and extreme downs. i've never thought of myself as an extremely happy person. i was a pretty angsty teen. but i've just realized how easily moved to giddiness i am and oh how i come crashing down at the smallest thing.

gill mentioned to me today that i have no middle ground - and she would know. i can't think of any other friend i spend more time with. working full-time with someone does that. does anyone ever find middle ground? is it really just me?

it's been a long fight wrought with shame and denial. it's the monster i closed my eyes to and pretended it was all make believe. i get blue, who doesn't? but i don't really get blue. one day i'm so happy you would swear i had woodland creatures following me around, the next i'm all about the doom and gloom.

blogging has only proved how manic i am.

after all these years, i'm still afraid of the monster in my closet.

lame.