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Feb. 17th, 2008 12:31 amI just hit a fucking manic high and I feel GREAT.
I think I've had...four oranges in the last five minutes? And the fifth I threw against my closet door and now I can't find the bloody thing and hopefully my roomie won't get upset.
And there goes another one. I'm gonna have such indigestion when I come down.
But god is this ever good. I want to go out and break doors and howl at the moon and tear things apart. Or people. Slaughter all who oppose me, that sort of thing. I should get an army one of these days.
Head hurts, maybe. And stomach. But I got all my Vitamin C, yes? No scurvy for Seiber.
...oh. Oh god. Yeah, I think I just fell off the iceberg. All the energy's gone out of my body, I'm falling to the ground or at least wanting to and the only thing keeping my fingers moving is how interesting it'll be in the morning and oh god I'm crashing.
*burps*
Was damn good while it lasted, though. I coulda taken on the world, coulda done...anything. Like a drug high only it's all natural, all in my head. Like going out on the balcony and whooping and I never do that (oh, see? I'm sane enough to use HTML) because I'm too fucking embarrassed to do anything that flamboyant because I'm a fucking pansy. Yeah. See, that's why I never do anything good in the world, can't go to rallies or clubs or have sex or go dancing with strange and pretty girls who I'd give up the world for but can't quite manage the spine to live up to. You know?
Course you don't know. You're real people. And there's a possibility that I might start tearing up at some point but that's okay, that happens sometimes and especially when I get this damn drunk off myself and it's probably a good thing this is a substance-free dorm and I'm a law-abiding citizen because otherwise I'd have gone through an entire thing of MD 20/20 by now. Stuff's good. And I don't get drunk off it, I swear. S'fun to pretend, though, I get to act as strange as I want and everyone'll think it's the booze. M'sneaky like that. Aching to tell and yet ashamed to poke my head up over the ramparts (hey, Rath, I stole your metaphor. Silly me.)
*turns down the Alice Cooper*
And maybe I'm using this an excuse to tell the truth because no one'll believe it was really me in the morning, same as I told Mom it wasn't my fault that I yelled at her. Wasn't, of course. M'not liable for things said while I'm tearing into myself, everyone knows that's a thing a crazy person does.
Heh. M'crazy now, or at least in stages. Cool. Won't hurt myself anymore, no, promised Boots I wouldn't do it again. And I don't lie to Boots.
Maybe I've said too much already. *turns off the music and takes a deep breath* I'm feeling saner now. Might regret this in the morning. I regret anytime I tell anyone anything. But y'know what?
I'm SICK of holding it back. Sick of not feeling. Sick of what little feeling I do have being abject madness. Sick of whatever bursts of passion I have being lived out through headcast and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
...and I swear to Primus, Slaanesh, and whatever else the FUCK I can conjure up that if someone tries again to advocate sending me to the hospital for a Psych evaluation I'll beat you with a stack of orange peels. I'm safe, even if I may not be sane, and I ain't going anywhere for a while.
This is getting posted before I lose my nerve. The high's already gone and I'm not gonna lose what's left of it.
*kicks post out the door*
I think I've had...four oranges in the last five minutes? And the fifth I threw against my closet door and now I can't find the bloody thing and hopefully my roomie won't get upset.
And there goes another one. I'm gonna have such indigestion when I come down.
But god is this ever good. I want to go out and break doors and howl at the moon and tear things apart. Or people. Slaughter all who oppose me, that sort of thing. I should get an army one of these days.
Head hurts, maybe. And stomach. But I got all my Vitamin C, yes? No scurvy for Seiber.
...oh. Oh god. Yeah, I think I just fell off the iceberg. All the energy's gone out of my body, I'm falling to the ground or at least wanting to and the only thing keeping my fingers moving is how interesting it'll be in the morning and oh god I'm crashing.
*burps*
Was damn good while it lasted, though. I coulda taken on the world, coulda done...anything. Like a drug high only it's all natural, all in my head. Like going out on the balcony and whooping and I never do that (oh, see? I'm sane enough to use HTML) because I'm too fucking embarrassed to do anything that flamboyant because I'm a fucking pansy. Yeah. See, that's why I never do anything good in the world, can't go to rallies or clubs or have sex or go dancing with strange and pretty girls who I'd give up the world for but can't quite manage the spine to live up to. You know?
Course you don't know. You're real people. And there's a possibility that I might start tearing up at some point but that's okay, that happens sometimes and especially when I get this damn drunk off myself and it's probably a good thing this is a substance-free dorm and I'm a law-abiding citizen because otherwise I'd have gone through an entire thing of MD 20/20 by now. Stuff's good. And I don't get drunk off it, I swear. S'fun to pretend, though, I get to act as strange as I want and everyone'll think it's the booze. M'sneaky like that. Aching to tell and yet ashamed to poke my head up over the ramparts (hey, Rath, I stole your metaphor. Silly me.)
*turns down the Alice Cooper*
And maybe I'm using this an excuse to tell the truth because no one'll believe it was really me in the morning, same as I told Mom it wasn't my fault that I yelled at her. Wasn't, of course. M'not liable for things said while I'm tearing into myself, everyone knows that's a thing a crazy person does.
Heh. M'crazy now, or at least in stages. Cool. Won't hurt myself anymore, no, promised Boots I wouldn't do it again. And I don't lie to Boots.
Maybe I've said too much already. *turns off the music and takes a deep breath* I'm feeling saner now. Might regret this in the morning. I regret anytime I tell anyone anything. But y'know what?
I'm SICK of holding it back. Sick of not feeling. Sick of what little feeling I do have being abject madness. Sick of whatever bursts of passion I have being lived out through headcast and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
...and I swear to Primus, Slaanesh, and whatever else the FUCK I can conjure up that if someone tries again to advocate sending me to the hospital for a Psych evaluation I'll beat you with a stack of orange peels. I'm safe, even if I may not be sane, and I ain't going anywhere for a while.
This is getting posted before I lose my nerve. The high's already gone and I'm not gonna lose what's left of it.
*kicks post out the door*
