No improvement. Ive been going.to.bed later and waking up earlier. My art, no matter how inspired and determined I am, is scratchy, ugly, and not nice.
I have a diagnosis, though. This is the first step towards getting real help.
Tomorrow I have an appointment with Dr. J. Vangerov at Gateways Hospital in Los angeles.
My psychiatrist referred me to him today, trying to find a disorder or a root to the nightmares. She thinks the daily migranes are a symptom of these night terrors.
Im nervous, but I’m never not nervous anymore.
Ill post more after.
I don’t have the energy to keep up with writing details of each nightmare anymore. I just want to get past the memories of them and go on with my day.
I can’t sleep even if I tried. I don’t stay up late on the computer. I’m physically and mentally exhausted to the point of reality loss. Last night I couldn’t even shut my eyes until 6 a.m. I feel like crying all the time, for no reason all. My eyes have gone from red to full blown purple that I can’t even cover up with makeup anymore. I’m not so worried about nightmares at this point, I just want to sleep throughout the night.
(Un)fortunately, my boyfriend can’t sleep either due to copious amounts of pain and restlessness, so we’ve kept each other miserable company.
He keeps me smiling though.
everything about these thoughts are so fucked up.
Last night was just awful. I woke up with the taste of vomit in my mouth.
I was in a cold, grey holding cell. A midevil room.i knew I wouldnt be here long. Huddling in the fetal position in the corner furthest from the door. I was past the point of hysterics and crying, I was staring numbly into nothingness, inviting death. My toes were so cold the joints were locked up and in pain from any tinge of air touching me. My nose was beyond irritated from running dry and bloody. The fingers had gone through rigor mortis without my brain registering the fact that I am dead. Whether I chose to acknowledge my faint heartbeat or not, this was not living. This was not a life. This was a dead, empty carcass waiting to stiffen and decompose.
I chose to not remember any life I had prior to these last breaths, nor imagine any “future” that could have been. This body is not dying, this body is already dead.
They forgot about me when they decided to vacate the land. I only hear what I think are rats scuffling outside the doors.
Oh believe me I tried leaving when my energy existed, I scratched and the cracks between the door and the wall until my nails peeled off completely; and even then I continued until my fingers were raw and bleeding.
When they left, they forgot to release me, also forgetting to give me food or a drop of water.
I havent even the energy for tears or feelings anymore. Im done grieving; just let this brain stop thinking and let this body die.
Maybe this is what death is.
Just another chasing dream. I know your behind me, I know im tired from running but I don’t dare slow down or give up. I may stumble and fall but ill be damned if I let this creature reel me in.
Thursday, October 4th, 2012
These nightmares are seemingly endless, I’m actually beginning to lose hope that things will ever amend. The only thing to look forward to are the waking hours that I can attach to what I perceive as “reality.”
It’s terrifying, it really is. The silhouettes of each nights passing grasp on to my day- to- day actions. It’s almost as if the break-throughs are falsifying and soaking into whats “real.”
It’s always dark here. I’ve visited this place one too many times before. The streets are lit by ancient lamps, the roads are paved and covered in a slick layer of water from the nights mist. The roads aren’t supposed to be this empty. It’s expected that all the shops would be closed, but not a soul other that a blind possum haunts the roads. Something is not right. Something is very, very wrong. I walk these streets for what feels like weeks before I see a light on in one of the windows above a shop. I second guess myself, I shouldn’t disturb someone at this time of night. In the momentary silence of thought, I was interrupted. A sound so pleasant I stopped mid-thought to dedicate my life to listening. I followed that noise, without knocking I went inside this home, I followed the stairs up an arched hallway. Step by step, note by note I was falling in love with this melody. There will always be something about the piano that makes me fall in love. A shadow at the piano was not human. A shadow playing this melody had me wrapped around it’s finger. I became mindless, I now belonged to this demon.
September 2nd, 2012
Just another chasing and hiding dream. They want me back, I’ve neglected them for far too long.
Saturday, September 1st, 2012
In a house, pacing the hallways. Each time I reached for a doorknob; locked. Reach, locked. Reach, locked. Locked. I was in an empty home with this sinking feeling that I needed to seek refuge in one of these rooms. That the answers lay behind one of these doors, each just waiting for me to walk through them. I tried kicking them down, but I just didn’t have the strength to even make one budge in the slightest. I looked through the kitchen for what might have been keys, but there were none. I heard the front door squeak open. Two foot steps, followed by the door pumping shut, followed by the locks click. I ran into the hallway, rattling each doorknob, silently pleading for one to please just open even though I’ve tried each one many times over and over.
