I know you are but what am I?

Something is wrong/right. You are wrong. No I am wrong. No nothing is wrong, you're just confusing things. It doesn't mean anything. But it does! It does! No child, you listen here. Stop thinking or you'll realize something. We want you to feel better. Take this. When you wake up tomorrow morning you won't care about any of that stuff.

There it is. That bright orb in the night sky. It has a big ring of light around it, probably zillions of millions off, but it's perfectly round. Now stare at it. Don't move. Discipline! Still, stay still! Can't move. Must stay here.

It was in the driveway that I woke up the other night. Well no not really, but it would have been insteresting to say. I just laid there and stared at the moon with this threat in the back of my mind that if I didn't bad things would happen and it would be all my fault. My lack of discipline.

I'm not crazy. I'm not insane. No, I think I'm just too in touch with some things that it becomes overwhelming. It causes me to rip my hair out and bang my head against anything and slap my face and sit in corners praying and then watch my tears fall and strings of snot flowing from my nose and then do it all over again. When I pause from these activities I look around and all I see are all these props and actors and nothing seems real at all. I want it all to start moving. I want it to come alive.
Apparently thinking this way and most especially having the inability to explain how desperate I get sometimes to See means I must take medication, Zoloft specifically, so I can think "clearly" like everyone else. I'm afraid it'll only hold me back. And I saw a book in the psychiatrist's office that said "You Must Be Dreaming".
I guess medication is the only way to ensure the comfort of the outsiders who still don't see this cage they've put themselves in. I sometimes think that the people we think insane and we put away or medicate are usually the ones who have seen a bit of truth. Maybe they have vision; maybe they know something the rest of us don't know because when they get too close for comfort we medicate them or do away with them. I know there's exceptions. I hope I'm not one of them.
Whatever it is, I'm long past caring at the moment. I can't express it anyways. On a more less dense note, Chris and Edric came over this weekend and all was fine. So fine it was boring. And unfortunately I didn't get to show them the chickens that reside in the woods- the black chickens of DEATH! It's all I ever wanted to do goshdarnit! Instead we looked at various items in my room- Chris looked through a book and my England album and Edric snooped around and found a quarter sitting on my dresser that he stuck in his eye. Of course that happened to be the same quarter I put in my belly button earlier as a display of my wonderful belly button talents. Then both Chris and Edric, on the occassions they came we sat in the family room and watched TV...with my parents. So cool, yes. A most dull affair, if not uncomfortable and embarrassing. At least my dad didn't walk in wearing only his underwear. No, I mean Thank God.
I wish more could have happened, but then maybe I'm just not good at "hanging out".
Anyways I constantly wish Tom was here. Maybe we could develop a new kind of hanging out, although I'm not sure what it would be(You there! Stop thinking perverted. I didn't mean anything like that in the least). Just that it we would have a fantabulous time and would eat coconut soup on a cliff overlooking something really impressive and beautiful. Hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello my Tommy Boy.

On another note, look at the Zoe-miester!