i don't know

my favourite phrase over the last few months has been 'i don't know'.

i don't know why i am.
i don't know what i'm here to do.
i don't know how my story ends.
i don't know why my brain sometimes burns hotter than the earth's core.
i don't know why my brain sometimes deepfreezes faster than the artic circle.

i don't know why i take the meds.
i don't know why i don't take the meds.
i don't know why i hurt myself.
i don't know why i don't.
i don't know why i'm broken.
i don't know when i'm fixed.
i don't know where three months went.
i don't know why when i was walking through town a few days ago i felt the 'click' and i knew everything was going to be okay.

i don't know why i push people away.
i don't know why i would keep anyone close.

i don't know what they're saying about me.
because they say a lot.

i've been described as many things since being catapulted into adult acute mental health wards four months ago.
depressed. unwell. obsessive. avoidant. eating disordered. well. attention-deficit. emotionally unstable. psychotic. agitated. detainable. undetainable. isolated. changeable. tearful. traumatised.

actually, traumatised has been mentioned a lot and i don't actually feel traumatised.
with all those words, it's hard to know what is relevant or what will actually stick.

arguably, clinical terms have no place in my life, but people keep telling me i will get better - how do i get better when i don't know where i'm starting from?

what exactly is better?
how can i get better when i don't know what my baseline is?

because i'm told it's good when i'm happy and laughing, but when i am it feels like the whole world is on fire. nothing is funny, it's hysterical, everything is hysterical. music isn't enjoyable, it's necessary - the faster and louder the better. i don't walk, i stomp, or skip, or dance. it feels electric and uncontrollable, it's like driving down the autobahn blindfolded. it's fun for a few hours, then i can't organise my thoughts because they keep elbowing each other out the way and pushing to get to the front. by that point i want anything that will ease it, quetiapine, lorazepam, zopiclone, promethazine, diazepam - whatever there is, i'll take it because i need to stop.

i'm currently having a silent disco in the darkness of my bedroom, silent because no one is allowed to share this moment with me. 2000s dance music, if it's not fast enough it gets skipped. in spite of the chronic lack of benzos in the community, i am binge eating (/drinking?) prosecco & peach bellini icelollies. PSA: £2.99 at aldi, 4.5% abv - you're welcome! 

then there's the opposite.

the i will lay in this bed until i die, the i can't eat or drink because i categorically cannot do anything to sustain my life. the sunlight is too bright, other people even breathing near me is intolerable because how dare you breathe and be alive when i am so sad. i like to think of this as my stupidest level, because i'll go sit on cliffs for a cigarette and take picnics to high buildings and of course i am unstoppable because everyone will understand that is okay to die when i am this sad. arguably, in countries in which assisted suicide is legal, chances are i could get help with it. which is always argued and ends in full body restraints with me screaming profanities at the police, then the bubble pops and the uncontrollable crying starts.

have you even been mental if you haven't been restrained on the floor of a custody cell with a police officer having to wipe the dripping snot off your face?  2nd PSA: custody cells shouldn't be used for section 136s, police, though well meaning, are raging idiots when it comes to mental health. i kid, all illness is real and valid, this is just my spot to bitch and whine about my life whilst covertly bragging about just how mental i am (very? not at all?). i would actually write more about this, but when i'm this disgruntled by life i stop remembering it.

finally, the middle...
the

• i
• am
• so
• bored

phase. which i either live in or i start planning to kill myself becausewhatisthepointinexistenceifitistoexistinabsolutemediocrity?

none of them are particularly sustainable, but which one is me ill? or are all three? and if they all are, then where the bloody hell am i aiming?

why does it matter?

because my life has no purpose. i am excess.

and,

     like,

            if i'm not ill then this is just my life,

                                                                                                             and this life sucks.

but if i am ill,

                                                                                    then i have been for at least nine years,

                                                                                                                                                 

                                                                                                  and this life still sucks.