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Sunday, February 13, 2011

oh, gu..uh......really....come on now....

A full week since the last fentanyl patch died, so I suppose I should be yipping over that. But when your fingers don't obey your fucking eyes and your hands are still shaking and sweating after several days it just pisses you off.

Woke up with big weewahhs, took 3 tries to get a cup of coffee made because of various fuckups, was already in a shit mood because I'd heard the BBC reporting at 6a.m. that Obama's losing all his juice. Fuck them. Fine. I need music, I think, and then bam! the damn hell the doc said I "should get some Imodium" for shows up! It's been a week of hell already, and now, gods, you have a giggle by throwing in convulsive diarreah the first time she's eaten a meal in 6 days. Oh thank you so much.

How goddamn long is this shit gonna linger in my system, leave and take all its circus effects with it? This is beginning to be worse than the Cymbalta withdrawal. With that shit, you were entirely fucked for 3-4 days but then got massively better and back to normal. This shit drags on and on, like a whining Dick Cheney, "But you're supposed to be a Liberal, you should be the first to give me your heart so I can keep living.." See how nuts I'm getting?

While I'm on the whining stool, the stench of hair dye will not leave my apartment. Though my hair is now the color it was when I was two.

And none of this brings up what's gone on in other areas of my life. A possible permanent tear in the family structure. Insanity is unfightable. It wears everyone out. If someone doesn't want to be welll, or function, or be happy or just secure, there's nothing you can do. I've done every idea ever thrown out to deal with this my whole life and I can't anymore.

I should probably mention that 14 years ago today was the day we closed the casket on my Mom. Ah, the 1st Death Month of the calendar year, right on time.

I say screw it all:

So that's my Sunday so far! How's yours? ;)

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