11/28/2005 - 4:39 a.m. | here's to you, american

I've been off the meds, uh, five days now, I guess, and I'm already feeling the effects. Or it's all in my head, which is kind of the point, I guess, or redundant, but we'll go on. For one, I'm a touch manic... in that I can't sleep (well, that's nothing new), and that I am actively trying to combat the sleep of others. I would not shut up about me and Kyle driving to Indiana to maybe finally find that all night Arby's. Don't potato cakes sound good right now? No, me neither. Also, there is some accompanying paranoia. For instance, I went downstairs with the gun moments ago, for fear the clonking noises I occasionally hear are not Kyle and Shelly banging but rather some psycho killer intent on breaking into our smelly house and doing... well, I haven't decided what yet. The motion-sensitive porch light was ON, motherfuckers! Granted, the gun is fucking useless - I would be better off using it as a melee weapon (shit's got some heavy plastic), and I'm already planning in advance how my sore inner left thigh (No, I cannot tell you why it is sore) is going to be my specific downfall when I am trying to escape this mad killer. It is double-underlined in my head. Thigh will kill you. Like that. On the plus side, I feel motivated - even in the face of some dread prospects.

Namely getting a shrink and visiting the DMV. Both should be rapid fire interesting, which is to say, not, but at least I feel like doing stuff. Maybe I'll get better, want to get good grades, want to be a good boyfriend and son, get caught up on that horrible notepad file of all the entries there are to write, transcribe some, start running and tanning again, go to class actually. It's going to be a busy week -unless the hell kicks back in (even that thought alone brings vestiges of feelings from those days, feelings I do not care to think of, and the reason I have stuck to the meds despite any crippling of emotional connections, etc), which is maybe why I don't want it to begin.