Clarification: Please ignore the logical loopholes unless you think that they are relevant to … (… heart aches (physically), can’t write anymore). Also, looking at this post, it might be because I am just too stressed out— only for today. Full-stop. In fact, now I think that this post is quite irrelevant (perhaps because I have written IT out and casted IT away) but at least it has captured the moment and that’s what I keep this site for. It’s just like photography. Now I know why I don’t ‘miss’ photography.
I used to be a disbeliever in the causation between stress and heart attack. Now, I finally do. And I REALLY do.
I feel like I have overdosed on digitalin and am experiencing heart ‘palpitations’ and my breathing is really shallow and a little too frequent. I feel like my heart has sagged 5 cm down and shifted to the left appreciably and is pressing onto my ribcage. This is around the second week of school and I am conscientiously noting down my symptoms as of date.
I have NO TIME. If you know me (the up-to-date version) and hear me saying this, you will know that if anyone else is leading a life like mine, they would have thrown themselves into a river.
If you are one of those who interact with me enough in school, you will know that recently, I have started to exhibit certain strange behaviours. Or rather, I have allowed them to surface more frequently without suppression. Imitating animal noises, making strange hybrid screams, jumping around and exclaiming and laughing at nothing and everything and randomly, crash at the very next moment and proclaim that that is the perfect day to commit a massacre.
I feel feverish and drunk without the physical aspects of those. But at the same time, I feel clear-headed—in the wide-eyed, caffeine-stoked sense (I am a regular caffeine ‘user’ but it’s just a cup of black coffee every morning. This cannot be that bad.). I get it. I feel like I have just awoken on the operating table from a general anesthetic.
Oh, and also, I tend to make really strange links out of everything which turns out to be rather funny or perhaps, insightful but I see them as indicators of my weakening grip on sanity.
And also, I really think I am sinking into a mental disorder of some sort which I am very afraid of and even more afraid of naming them for fear of contagion (this is irrational, yes). Recently, I don’t find myself ‘weird’ or at least off-the-norm—I find myself perfectly normal and yet… I have this dying voice which reminds me that I am (of course) not.
This means I am crazy, because I don’t find myself crazy anymore. I was ‘becoming’—have I now become-ed?
Has my 3rd person died away? I don’t know and I don’t really want to know. But please, don’t let me go crazy. I feel myself spinning away and I somehow unconsciously like or am fascinated with the sensation.
Also, I find that I am getting more neurotic than usual—anxiety, paranoia, suspicion, bouts of sensitivity and insensitivity. I don’t really analyse and re-analyse and watch over myself from a 3rd person point of view anymore. I would like to think that that means an established comfort and esteem with myself but… no, not in that sense.
I shall not let myself sink into insanity. I shall also not let the power of suggestion manifest itself. And I shall be more conscious. And I shall try to hold on to the reams of society to avoid falling off the carousel but settle just right at the border.
Or maybe I can be Schrodinger’s cat. (Yes, this is an example of me making random links.)
Both dead and alive. Neither dead nor alive.
Both crazy and sane. Neither crazy nor sane.