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it's a funny thing, about depression - or maybe it's just that i really *am* bipolar, or maybe this is a type of depression that i know has a name, but i can't remember it since my psychology days are such a blur behind me now...but there's this thing...

when i get to feeling "good" - which basically means i've not had an insecure thought in the past minute or five - when i get to feeling it, the "ok", the sigh of relief, i don't want to stop. i keep inhaling, keep taking, keep forcing it into me, because it was the cure and it should cure some more. it doesn't even "mean" anything anymore; just get me to that state of numbness so that the last thing i can remember feeling is that good. oh, i remember feeling good. it was there. it was real.

i walked most of the way home, coming down. i felt how hollow and heavy my face must have looked, as i looked at my compatriots still out on a sunday, downtown toronto. there weren't many. some stumbled, most smoked, some sketched their ways around, some ignored.

in some ways, i keep going because i want it to knock me out. i'm scared of sleep at this point; several hours ago i wanted it to make the time disappear, but it barely made a dent in the still ongoing dreary day. now, it signifies preparing for battle against a new day, with conflicts abound and more weariness. perhaps they are only internal conflicts, but they will exhaust my ego to the point of near extinction. i'm seeing my fragments right now, and in this state one can never foresee them being put back together again. how strange that i boiled half a dozen eggs this evening.

my stomach is clenching a little. i wonder how long this spell will last, and if so, does this mean i'll lose more weight? there seems to be a rather unfortunate direct correlation between the numbers on a scale descending and my mood and confidence elevating. because this is my reality, i share none of this "fat pride" that is the flavour of the moment. my fat signals stagnancy, which signals paralysis. i'm so sick of being paralyzed by my own body.

i once again hope that i will find this foreign soon enough. i'll wonder how i was ever in such a state that i could write such things. but in such a state, i can't imagine that this vision will ever be reality. again.