hey, i didn't know that L-Aspartic acid that is present in coffee, liquorice, sugar cane, sugar beet, is neuro-excitatory. it is the phytochemical responsible for so-called 'sugar highs' and it's also in aspartame.

http://www.biologie.uni-hamburg.de/b-online/ibc99/poison/pharmacognosy1.html

ooh  i think our noodles are ready:)
NOOODLES.
mmmm
noooooodles.

i gets curry chicken.
shirley gets chicken. because she has bad throat and curry makes it badder.

meww.

RAAAARARR.

mmmm. noodles. nao.

read shit!



yay!




OH MY GOD HOW LONG WILL THIS SHIT MOOD LAST! if i felt better i work better i communicate better i relate better.
can i do all these DESPITE the constant mindblowing harangueing i rain on myself? does self talk help?
ok. just tell them you've been in a bad way and undertake most of the worrk.
ok. just read the shit and do the work
ok. just.... i don't know what to do. i've no idea what brings me satisfaction--don't even want to get out of semi prone position. fugh.

i need a goood drink tonight.

worried that drink makes my moods worse

rules of thumb:
drink+happy=HAPPY
drink+sad =SAD

fuck that emo shit!

back to normal!

*hehehe. faking it till i'm making it!*

still feeling crap.

ok. i'll just wait til next week. i will have patience. in the meantime, readings and workings. readings and workings.

i hate this.

but what doesn't kill me makes me stronger!

yeah. screw this stupid mood thing.

ok now to look for my concentration. and unearth brain from mire of fog.

good lord. sleeping like a koala. moving like a sloth.

wtf is happening.

doesn't make me less worried it makes me fuckign SLEEPY.

ok rant. i need to rant.

prepping for saturday now. got a nice bunch of new songs. i love this.

the meds are not working. i feel so guilty about wagging school, so guilty. yet i don't want to think of it. thinking of it makes me want to kill myself to get away from it. that's the ultimate getting away i think. not sleep, not solving the problem, not anything else. just die. you're permenantly out of the fucking picture. people can't really blame you once you're dead. you will never ever have to face any obligations again. you will never have to meet anyone's, nor your own, expectations ever again. nothing ever again. evermore.

i lose myself temporarily in meds, in music, in avoidance. but i know this is transient. i will have to face life again, later, again and again. i don't want that. death is the only solution. i want to zonk out. i want to die.

drinking my chai latte too quickly. i hate this. i hate how i need this to live yet i hate the consequences of living, which is to live and fulfil responsibilities that life brings. therefore i don't want to live. i'm sorry mom, dad. everyone who has tried to help. you did not deserve this, i can't help but NOT go on anymore. i need to make the final exit.

i hate this. gotta field an interview about goth thingas later. i am gonna crash and kill myself right then and there. it's 12:10 now. the thing is at 4. I WILL SCREAM AND KILL THEM.

forgive me for embracing death.
give me not a flowering wreath
let winds claim my moldering ash
thus my will by my dying breath

gotta burn some fucking songs
i'm such a fucking fuckup
i hate myself
i can't say no
i can't love
i can't do so many things that normal people do
what CAN i do?
be a handsfree purger
be a binger
be a somber, pretentious person
be a music appreciater
be a music maker
be a chai tea latte drinker
be a miaower
be a ring-wearer
be a long haired girl
paw carrier
idm idolator
drum and bass bitch
industrial headbanger
great dancer
great lap dancer
good listener
quiet and noisy
bitcher
chiller
mymedsdontwork-er!
envy-er
slacker
lazy
cheesy
realist
panicker
perfectionist
black lover
melodramatist
extremist
reader writer singer rider death. maaaargh

destroy my heart--burn me with fire
or start to try to live like a vampyre

argh.

ok. look on the bright side. hm. it's a beautiful Friday. P day! ..... um. no.

no. yes! no. no. no. YES! aaaaaaaaaarg.

noooo.

hyperventilates. zzz. gawd im a fuckup. no you're not. just chill and breathe. breathe.

the thing is, i know what my final decision will be. even from the start. i'm a fucking fraud. stop pretending. you know you will wimp out.

fm sdoi,bhv,j.kfa?Ljkdskjkjkjjkjkkjkjhsdcnbxm v

god dammit. regressing, i seem to be.

well. give it time to work i guess. patience. i'll do what i CAN right now and i'm ok. it's ok. i'm ok.

it's all actually quite good. i've a good life, i have a home, i have cedkitty, koshkakitty, i have friends, family, my hobbies, my beloved books, notebooks, LAPTOP, INTERNETS. it's shiiiibby. peachy keen.

attempts to smile. SMILE!

quite dead. why isn't my seratonin uptake inhibited?

concentration's gone now.

trying to read up on herbs and shit.

RARG.

oh dear. what do i do im still freaking out.

stab my eye. poop.

going back tomorrow to fill the prescription of fluoxetine and alprazolam (yes!). forgot to bring enough cash today. meh.

felt juuust like a zombie today.

slack jawed, stiff jointed, eyeballs rolling out their sockets. ranted and railed at the doc. i'm sick of feeling this way and i cant stop it and its not fair. oh well.

doc suggested warding for a while since the anxiety is quite. ridiculously bad. i could use some help to keep going to school instead of wagging on whim.

i was like. from hospital i could just go to the public library instead of school and grow roots into their armchairs.

meh.

on another note. someone mistook me for anorexic today. somewhere in the back of my mind, i'm secretly pleased. and secretly hammering my head: you're too fat, don't even think of trying to look anorexic. ah well. residual eating disordered thoughts they are. thank god they don't matter to me now.

WHY doesn't it matter? cos i'm feeling too shitty to care about looking good or looking whatever.

HAHA. depression certainly has its uses!

but i don't want to have anything to do with anorexia anymore. it's in the past. i just need to deal with the residual eating disorder and UNDERLYING SOURCE of the ED. which is fear and anxiety and... coping methods to deal with them.

oooh. LD 50 of alprazolam (in rats) is 331 to 2171 mg/kg. i'm 47kg. which would amount to 15557mg to 102037mg OR 15.557 grams to 102.037 grams. which is a shitload.

apparently alcohol used in conjunction makes it work.but still i'll need a shitload of those things.