Just venting about my mental condition, medication, and overall life progression, or lack thereof.
The medication makes me lose focus and become restless. I know that it keeps the voices away, especially the ones that tell me to hurt myself and others, but this short attention span is preventing me from doing what's most important- reading the longer works of the Protagonists here. I can only read, rate, comment, and recommend poems because the side effects of the anti-psychotic medication traps me to short, quick works. Plus, the anti-seizure medication, which I suspect tones down communication between my left and right brain, numbs me to a catatonic state of nothingness. I GET IT. I'm potentially dangerous. But most of the voices consoled me and cherished me for who I am. The mania exhilarated me to great mental heights and awareness. Sometimes I feel like quitting the prescription drugs and let loose my inner angels and demons, but I fear being re-hospitalized and put on even more numbing and dumbing prescription drugs. Plus, and of course, I never want to be dangerous again.
Despite all this mental health stuff, I keep a positive and geeky outlook. Life is just a ride, as some wise comedian said, and I don't like falling anymore. I want to climb up higher and higher, and at the very last moment, let gravity do its job and send me straight into the abyss, forever. This isn't depression; this is true happiness. At least, it'll be my happiness.
My OCD is back, and I can't move out of fear of doing something bad, or not doing what's required for safety. I do not want to sacrifice freedom over security, not if it means I can't look forward. Go away, imp.
Lastly, I love to write, and I love to read, and someday, when I lower the dosage of the prescription drugs and regain my complete autonomy from psychiatrists and therapists, I can finally rejoin my fellow writers in long prose and epic poems. Until then, please forgive me, and please, remember me.