I’m sick of being alone. I have no one who I can trust. No one understands what’s going happening. They don’t understand the Angels. They don’t understand that they need me. I need to see my doctor. I need him to tell me what to do. I’m alone and I’m scared.
I don’t even know why I’m writing on here. I suppose it’s to distract myself. Maybe. I’ve been left alone downstairs. The figures keep moving in the doorway, and it’s annoying me. I’m was trying to distract myself with a film – but they’re distracting me from the film.
I can feel myself starting to slip into the chunk of time where I write. Sometimes I can kind of tell when I’m going to do it, but most of the time I can’t. I hate it when it happens. It happens for hours on end, and afterward I don’t remember any of it. I’m just left with a jumbled mess in my notebook. The one I can’t show anyone. Or maybe I’ll show it to my doctor. I don’t know.
I feel like I’m rambling now. I don’t want to slip into that ‘writing state’. I’m trying to avoid it. But I can’t avoid the inevitable when it’s beginning already.
My thoughts are racing and I can’t keep up typing as I’m thinking of what to say. I’m already two sentences ahead. It’s awful yet satisfying at the same time. I’m usually awful at writing for a long period of time.
This post has jumped from topic to topic so much, and I can’t help but relate it to my thinkings right now. It’s hard to stay on topic for any length of time. That’s how I am right now. It’s helping to a certain degree with distracting myself, but it won’t be enough soon.
My head is hurting from the thoughts and the voices and it’s incredibly loud. I want to sleep so I don’t get it all, but I’m too awake. I’m too awake and too sleep deprived to sleep. Va a ser una divertida noche.