My brain likes falling, I don't.

a rant about how i'm feeling at the moment.  nothing special.  It reads pretty pathetically, but I just need to get it out somehow.

On April 29 I experienced something of a personal crisis and posted a status update on Facebook that caused one of my 'friends' to seriously overreact. The ensuing brouhaha at my home had to be seen to be believed. It was like something out of a bad movie. Certainly an eye-opening moment, albeit terrifying.

(A) RADICAL MENTAL HEALTH LITERACY

I have always had that...fear... of becoming crazy. [never acknowledging that i was...always was].

Don't ever drop acid, you'll [turn schizophrenic like your uncle ] Norman. Yeah, well norman was the most kind, in tune, magical, and wise human I've known. Why was it something to fear then? Not the space of madness but the effects of madness to place. Society's reactions to madness.

Norman was shot dead in our home by a mental health illitarate cop. It wasn't the disease that killed norman, it was society manifested in the form of the state.

This aint no pissin contest.  Why can't I see that?  Why am I holding it in imagining if I let out it would be no different- it would be more crude- it would show YOU have no id

"Breakfast?"she asks, a fake smile on her face. I know she sees through me. "Not hungry." She glares at me. "I don't care, you have to eat." No I don't. I don't have to but I do anyway, to please her. The cold oatmeal settles, a hard lump in my stomach. I drink my glass of sour OJ. They don't let me drink coffee anymore. Lazily I pull my clothes, mostly black, over my head, my legs. Cover myself in my triple-layered-sea-of-black safety-net. I pull the comb through my tangled hair wreaking or raspberry. I slather my eyes in dark shadows, and toss the unfinished history essay into my messenger bag. My parents burn me with their eyes as I head for the door. I'm late again. "Bye" I groan. "Love you!" my dad shouts after me. I don't answer.