The Circus is Falling

It's only midnight and I can tell that the sleeping medication isn't quite working. My thought process has over powered the Sleep-eze pill and hasn't made me very drowsy at all. I mean, I took it almost a couple hours ago.

This depression that I'm falling into is quickly consuming me. I don't feel very healthy, I am not thinking very healthy and I'm certainly not eating in a healthy manner either.

I'm sure this is some sort of cry for help, but I can't trust anyone with me. I don't have any honest belief that anyone would take me seriously. I am packaged up inside, only distributed by this once read Tales blog, which I have really taken off of the spotlight. There might be a few returning glances by some people, but overall, this is a good little place to write on the wall.

I'm waiting for August and Everything After to rip to my laptop... I think that will drive me crazy enough to woefully go to sleep. Anguish just sounds like a great idea right about now, but now that I'm also in the dark, the medication is working a bit more. I just know, when my head hit the pillow, the oft-mentioned hamster will decide it's time for his workout and that wheel will spin and spin and spin.

I really wouldn't mind passing out with my face lying on the keyboard when my alarm clock goes off. It would truly be a fitting end to this evening of thought. Typing away until the bitter end. It just has some sort of justice to it all... in a world where justice doesn't really exist. Oh wouldn't that be sweet.

The internet amazes me so. I mean, it's all so public nowadays... with your Facebook and MySpace... you can choose to be someone in the eye or nestled away looking at others. A voyeur if you will. I have chosen in previous days to be rather public... but with this breakdown coming down around me, I may start to regret it. In these sort of cries for help, I don't actually want anyone to help me. I'd rather have the twists of fate come my way and possibly throw me a life line. It doesn't really look like it'll happen in the near future, but I might stick around to see if it actually does.

I count myself as an individual. I'm sure I'm not as unique as I'd like to think I am, but I'm still the only person like me that I know. You can compare me to others or you can test my attributes and categorize them... but I'm still me. I'm still light and fluffy on the outside, but I'm turning into an over-aged Emo on the inside. How sad does that sound?

After watching Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas recently, I have thought about a lifestyle of mind-bending drugs on a full-time basis. I could write in a state of disillusion... I'm sure I could. You could read all my drivel on a weekly or better basis. I don't know how many bats I'm going to see or how many serpents will check me in to my hotels, but it'll be something to see. I could document the drugs and their effects. It doesn't necessarily have to be Vegas either. It could be any major centre... except fo Calgary or Vancouver. I'm pretty sure it would end in some sort of rehab, prior to the time that I'm ready for it. The drugs probably wouldn't work too much... they'd probably drive me to an early death, which I don't think I'd be ready for either. A drug-induced suicide isn't quite the way I picture it... but I suppose it is somewhat conceivable.

The music has finished it's storage cycle and I'm getting re-acquainted with Adam and the rest of the Crows. It's a soundtrack to some of my despair, as it is for many people. The memories of Barry and I in the kitchen of the Crown in Wormingford, bleating our hearts out to the sorrow this CD leaves us in. It's a special moment when you can connect with someone in a moment or a song like that. We'd sing and we'd sing... to the Crows or Powderfinger... be it sober, hungover or coming down. Yeah, it's special no matter what state you're in.

Well, I might have underestimated these drugs... which is sort of a good thing. I have spent some time at this whole writing thing. It's sure been a while. I thought I was getting better in my thought processes that I didn't really need to write as much anymore, but I almost feel another cycle of penning some thoughts down coming around. This bout of depression looks like it's going to be here for a while and it may save me some money too. I haven't really felt like doing much of anything that I haven't already committed to now. Only another week or hopefully two of ball left. After that, I don't think I show myself out too much. It might be just a point to stay in and catch up on some of the more serious movies that I have been putting aside to watch funnier, more mindless comedies to keep me in good spirits. Since I've lost the hope of any good spirits for a while, serious and darker movies might be in my near future.

My face isn't going to land on the keyboard tonight. I've been writing for 15 minutes already on the couch... the screen might fall back and bop me one in the nose, but I won't have keyboard marks on my face when I look myself in the mirror in the morning. Oh... how depressing.

I'm just really glad I've come back to writing on here again tonight. It has been rather cathartic already. It's not going to save me from myself, but it'll help me sleep at a decent time tonight. If there are any spelling mistakes in this paragraph, it's only because I wrote it with my eyes closed in an attempt to possibly fall asleep before finishing. How did I do?

Damn keyboard skills.