Megalomaniac Scribbled down on Monday, 29 August 2005 16:53:35 PM
Dearest diary, What the hell is a megalomaniac? I must say I like this word. I was informing myself more about the band Incubus and were reading they once had a hit with this track. I needed to listen to it as they have many nice, neat songs. As soon as I listened to it, I digged it. I think Clean is a good one too. I will get the lyrics. I may not understand or recognize the words he (Brandon Boyd) is singing, but I do feel it has some sentences that are 'ace'. It's kind of confusing (I don't comprehend the whole of it) but the music itself is nice, sort of dance-like. Not that I like dancing. It makes you sooner move out of frustration, something around those lines (like violently, a bit). I am a megalomaniac. A mega obsessed girl. I have a few obsessions, do I? Possibly. Sometimes I have no idea what my likes or dislikes are. I was more something alive and not someone. You know this, diary, I have told you about these apathetical feelings before. I like the medications my doctor put me on, they make me sleep so much. It may eat up all the fitness out of me, at the other hand I didn't have to eat when I were sleeping. I tend to wake up early, strangely. I'm always up around 9am and never sleep further unless I'm extremely tired. It's contradictive. Or the pills aren't working after all. I don't feel much effect while I am running out of the first strip. I am more irritable and lifeless. Or I am weary but not enough to have me go to bed. Somehow I am tired, that's a fact, like right now I am too. Luckily, I could've cancelled my appointment. I had a nice lady on the phone and explained to her that the letter arrived late so I couldn't cancel the appointment in time. She was sweet and said she would note that down. She questioned whether I would call back for a new appointment or if they could call later. I hurriedly said I would (not that I will again, I really can't afford it), to not have them calling me. I hope they still won't send any bill for me to pay. Some people are really bloodsuckers and unreasonable. I had the misfortune to experience this with a doctor who later turned me down and told me to seek someone else. I had to pay quite a bit of money, I'm glad I have that over now. It actually was his assistant and it was basically a more 'refined' way of saying that I could get fucked. I felt insulted, offended and hurt. I also remember going there once to have them checking an injury and they cooly told me to go to the hospital, they wouldn't help me. If it was a bit severe, I think they still wouldn't have cared. I hadn't felt depressed in my whole life. At the end, I went to the hospital solitairy and two other doctors checked on me to constatate that I didn't have any difficulty, I could feel safe. During this period I underwent another bad 'experience' which only strengthened my suicidial feelings. Never have I felt so alone either. I don't want to recall, some people were just really incomprehensibly harsh and indifferent. Well, if this doctor charges me -I don't think he has the right to- it's still their own fault not mine. They didn't give me a chance for cancellation. I was looking for a few surveys to fill out and found myself taking a few tests. According to a few, I'm 'severely depressed' and need to seek professional help 'urgently' to not end up dead. (Later you will be having guardians at your door to keep an eye on you to not commit suicide.) Everything is about control. Sometimes life itself was contradictive, you know? It didn't make any sense to me, this I know. The government bothers or annoys itself by people who have mental disorders (I don't think many receive the nicest and best treatment), saying they cost money but still they keep them alive. This may be harsh but why don't they let these people die, why do they even care? Wouldn't that spare them of useless effort of trying and then failing and also money we all worried about? Money was so precious and we always want to spent it on other things (materials) than someone's life and wellbeing. This is again a very rude, heartless comment. But I thought they should let people get killed without trying to save them, these saviours did it 'against their will', not because they actually cared about you as a person. Maybe they wanted to win a trofee or be seen as a hero. They didn't care about you. They don't. I cost them money. And the chance is small I will get better. I may function physically better but in my head I will continue to be as screwed as I've been before. I know how this world is, I know what to expect from and out of it. I have spent decades here, I know how people behave and to what lengths they all can go. I know they don't care about anything if it isn't for a personal benefit, as long they can profit from it. As I continued reading, clicking on random links for more tests... I signed online and saw a link in a MSN contact and bounced unto more websites but about depression/self-injury ones. I was just reading this girl's diary, so desperate she sounds. I only read her newest entry which was about her friends abandoning her as she came out that she self-injures. It seems to happen so much. I think I have read or heard similiar stories everywhere. When you're depressed or self-injure, people suddenly find this too hectic, too big, too heavy to handle. Suddenly they can't be your friends anymore, or their parents (conservative, closedminded parents needed to be locked up for all eternity or they needed a brain-wash to wash away all the filthy, unfair thoughts and beliefs they held theirself to) prohibited them to. Are they scared? Or do they feel depression is contaminative or something? Why do they treat their friends that way? Perhaps I'm fortunate as that hasn't happened to me before. I personally gave up my 'friends'. Only online two 'friends' stopped dealing with me as they thought I were crazy. Correction: When they thought I were crazy, I trashed them in a bin. I hate remembering, so I won't go deeper on this. Offline I don't have to deal with the knowledge people abandon me. I knew somehow I wouldn't be the same anymore, as nice, lively, energetic (not that I ever was but I could pretend), supportive as the person they knew I was. My depression sucked all those qualities out of me and made me careless. Sometimes I do miss talking to those few good friends I had. I know they tried before to get me out of my hell, but I didn't want them to help me. I didn't want to have to owe them anything. They gave up and forgot my name. I know some of their profiles (they have websites online) and they don't mention me as sometimes they did. The better, I don't wish to be remembered by anyone. As long as I live, I try to chop out all possible weed out of my way to not have them block my sight. In other words, I try to not get hurt. I protect and prepare myself before anything unexpectedly happens. At least I know nothing can hurt me as I had it all stipulated.

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