Night 1 - 10 PM - I'm sitting here for the first time in a year understanding that I have had writers block for almost 10 months because I've been downing Mountain Dew and Pepsi and any soda at every occasion. I haven't wanted to touch a keyboard, and now the thoughts are coming back, slowly.
For the first time this year I don't feel as paranoid as I have. I don't feel so mad. It's obviously helping, it's just hell trying to deal with the migraines tonight. I've learned that so called "100% juices" are not exactly the healthiest option because of all the sugar content. Slowly but surely, I'm getting better.
Now hopefully I can sleep tonight.
Hopefully, the nightmares don't surface of the constant loneliness that I’ve felt, or the creeping feeling that I might, if I’m not careful enough, lose whatever makes I, the author, I the person, I, the wordsmith, talented.
It’s tough making these life changing decisions because they’re so funny to me. “Don’t eat the footlong sub at Subway, have the six inch one with turkey and mustard and veggies.”I hurt a lot of people this year by mistake because within that heavily caffeinated haze, I let a friend suffer. It haunts me, as though I have called the spirit of the Great Old Ones, Cthulhu, to stalk me in the dead of the night. It’s just tough consoling myself that my problems aren’t going to go away because I drink a soda. The notion is completely and utterly hysterical to me, because it’s so silly. I’ve literally gotten to the point where I’m going “I will be able to sleep if I drink a generic Cola.” It has become the cure all for my problems, and it needs to stop so that I can exist. I could have had someone to fight through this with me, but he's gone to do his own thing now.
Now I can only hope that my dreams will start coming back so that my muse, she of darkness and sweet things, can flourish at midnight.