Not great today – lots of mixed mood symptoms (can’t stop thinking about sex, overly chatty, haven’t really slept for two nights, a little bit wired and jumpy, have ritually surrounded myself with cinnamon candles and I sort of want to cry because I’m so frustrated. Also – eating lots of cake. Damn you, bake-off!)
Wish Toscar was here. For sex, mainly.
It’s times like this that I wish my health was good so that I could go for a run. I used to go on long night-time runs whenever I felt worked up. A lot of the time it actually made me more manic, but it felt so good to take that mania out into the world and put a sheen on it. The other thing I used to do is go out and find sex.
Jesus Christ I want to have sex with somebody. I’m not going to sleep tonight, am I? It’s like a throb – and onanism doesn’t remove the desire – I mean, if we’re going to get detailed, it is an immense need to be fucked not necessarily to fuck. Or to give a blowjob or something. To really kiss someone and grab handfuls of skin and make someone come – man, woman, whatever.
These candles are making me sweat.
See, it’s times like this that I’d usually pop a nice trustworthy antipsychotic, but I can’t do that right now – so I’m just going to have to sit here all night like a fucking chained-up bonobo. It’s fine at the moment because I have perspective (if I didn’t have perspective then I’d be out trying to have sex with someone with no catheter-induced shame whatsoever) but I’m worried because I’m simply not sleeping and the less I sleep, the more fucked up I get. The minute I start drawing up hugely flawed business plans and trying to fuck cakes instead of eating them, then we can begin to worry.
I don’t want to stop writing this because I have to go back to sitting alone feeling high and dry.
I know that if I can get to sleep somehow, I’ll feel much better tomorrow and more sane. But how to sleep? Ambien isn’t really doing it at the moment, and if I mix my ambien with valium there’s the whole ‘dying in your sleep’ thing that I don’t want to encourage. I could get enormously drunk, but that may tip this weird mood over into a low which I obviously don’t want. Fucking hell I miss my seroquel so much. I could try going out for a little walk but I’ll either end up walking until dawn or I’ll walk directly to Toscar’s and demand fun. Also, my mobility isn’t great, but hey, it’s not a race.
I AM IRRITATING MYSELF. I AM IRRITATING MYSELF!!
Fuck me I neeeeeed to sleep. It’s been…days now on…one hour? Two? I don’t even know.
My mind feels very full. I suppose without dreams, things begin to clog. I have often thought that that’s what mania is, and that’s why sleep is such a huge component – perhaps it is simply the brain being overloaded and not having the chance to dust itself down. Things start piling up, whirring noisily, setting fire.
I have to go. I’m boring myself massively. I’ve decided. I’m going out for a slow and gentle walk. See you at dawn?