At first I only wrote transcripts of my journals. Then followed formal essay type entries, and blurbs about pop culture. At that time I was primarily creating and writing in a more traditional since, e.g., wall hangings, journals, instant film, & discs. I tried earnestly to be an analog artist.
Despite my efforts, my artistic and spiritual journey has led me to a digital realm; it's a lot like the place inside of me from which all my work pours from.
With the burning of my books, which happened shortly before I began hosting my words in this space, it seems my work has taken a different highway towards the digital medium;
this intangible existence.
Today is my fifth day on the drug Viibryd. Today was the day that I knew this drug was bad [for me]. I broke down at work and had to leave. I called the doctor, and he said to stop taking the drug, and see him on Monday. I see Tim that morning also.
More sorrowing than the depression is the realization that I'm actually going crazy, and this is an attempt to take control before its too late. I don't know what that means exactly, but this is not what I expected my way out to look like.
A line runs through my mind that is parallel to that of People's Temple & Heaven's Gate; Am I in the line with the citizens if Jonestown, awaiting my glass of Kool-Aid handed to me by some American conspiracy to control the masses in a George Orwell novel?
Am I really sick, and is this the best decision that's I've ever made in parenting myself as an adult? Maybe I should move to Colorado, Washington, or California. Maybe I should run back to Jesus; these are all attempts to fix myself, and the truth is that I am not God.
A very sad day this has been [for me].