Trying to stop meds....don't know why or why not to bother with meds...so why bother? I feel ok, I was a little grouchier than normal this afternoon, with bouts of spaciness and then sudden splurges of clarity coupled with de ja vu. I feel more awake, count the coffee....more me. Reading on Naropa, about how we are all really 'Sane' on the inside. Everyone is brilliantly sane, but we have to reach a place of peace within ourselves, and all that buddhist happy goodness. I have been drawing blanks too a bit, but....so? My fear right now is that I'll start smoking when I get back home.

But I will try hard not to. Why do I fear cigarettes? They make me crave medication...it's all this supplementation and stagnation of the rx generation...blah blah blah...I admit it. I am sad. To be truthful, the alienation from this illness is worse than the illness itself. I can't drive, can't party, can't think, can't....can't just be free....just fall...just move. I can't move. I am choking on air, is that suffocating? I wish I knew what the plan was, but for the past three or four days I forgot to take my pills I embraced the 'what if' with a newer perspective, 'what now?'

Dreams...psychic encounters. Puzzles, mazes, magical cities, dimensionless staircases and endless closets with passages into space and time. I am happy, I have reached that state of comfort. I feel like, yes, I am here...but when will I let go of the fall and fly? When I fly, where can I go but down when gravity is the law of the universe...but then again, earth is suspended in an anti-gravitational vaccum. There must be more out there.

When I die I will float away into the black abyss. 

I just want out of this! This game! This psychopsychology....Do I sound like I'm raving mad or twice as sane as I was about three minutes ago? On meds. Off meds? What does it matter? When reality is not provable...ok ok reality is provable, but I have forgotten how to prove it because I am isolated in a body cell. I feel like I'm some parasitic mutation of the once amputated soul that was my self.

Did they break me down on purpose? Forgive the rambling, but I'm aware of it all....a little too aware....that I forget to think like everyone else. Dang. Life is confusing to me.....and we're back to the beginning the why why why and what what what and how how how and its all reversing....how about 'what crashed into what that caused the cataclysmic spark' what broke that didn't smash? My will....Ok but I'm not crazy doctor...I'm insane. I admit it. I have been thinking I am really insane and not schizophrenic. I am just insane....completely unalterably messed up and crazy for life...what's the difference? Oh yeah, there really isn't one...but then I measure my own worth at odds with those of modern day psychoscience and my brain makes pasta out of their laws. Now I really dont know what I mean, that's the seed of insanity...when you're purposely trying to demean yourself and cause that metaphysical catastrophe of unravelings and theoretical disasters that don't realize themselves. What?

I dont know. Damn. If I'm crazy then let me be! I'll be crazy. But they don't ask and so I don't listen, we're in fast paced retrospective summary of the future with pill peddling psychiadocs in white sweaters giving us the chills on hot days and we're in a daze because the cotton is muffling our own abandonement. ME, plural for the generation of rx failures. Whatever. WHATEVER. WHATEVER. I don't think anyone cares about me anymore.