Rives

sleep behind my eyes, disease within my skin. sweat masking filth, slow suttle aches trying to claw their way out. vomit. the doctor says its nothing. not really. but thats all i hear. her lips seem to move at half the speed of her words, and i find myself stairing long after she has finished her sentence. blankly. a long pause and the end of the question hits me. yes. of coarse. she asked me if i understood, but as quickly as I answered i had forgotten all the words. smile, shake hands even. thank you. she shakes her head as i walk down the hall. me content to look at me feet, repeating the instructions back to myself, 'down this hall, left at the scale, down this hall, left at the scale, down this hall left at the... shit, that was the scale' turn back god damn why did i bother. if emotions could be eaten would be taste better fried or grilled? and how many calories is self loathing. consuming my will and indulging in my self doubt and loathing seems to me the only hearty meals I've had lately. by the same logic i cant tell if obese or bulimic. when normal people open there eyes is there certainty that they have done it correctly? or do they also blink wildly for a few seconds trying to decide which reality is more real, more right. the thought occurred to me that maybe i am also some where else. this thought has crossed my mind before i think, or may be it has only crossed the other me, and I'm seeing his shadow. bug bites. itching spots previously unknown. she keeps saying that she isn't leaving, but i feel like i keep going crazier. maybe thats just a side effect i experience when ever i stop taking my personality. its seems i lost that as well. if you could determine at birth how many moments of true happiness one person would experience in there life time, and how many of misery, at what age would it be ok to tell them. and when would it be human to hand them a gun so the could off themselves if they wished. i havent been able to read much lately, every time i look at words, either on page or screen, i only see images carved out of the spaces between words, mazes running up and down text. this blog is rather pointless, but i feel a little better now.

i lost the prescription the doctor gave me.
i have to go back tomorrow.