The Stillness

It is often in the dead of night that I feel the urge to write.  While my brain is never silent, my desire to paint a literary picture is little more than a dull ache in the back of my mind.  But when night falls, and when I’m in bed staring at the ceiling, that dull ache transforms into a heady throb.

I often ignore it.

I shouldn’t ignore it, because I know it is good for me to unleash the angst I have felt during the day.  But I ignore it anyway.  I feel I have to, in order to maintain my sanity.  It’s a rather counterintuitive measure.

I saw a new neurologist recently, and I must admit that I found him rather brilliant.  He did confirm that most likely the collapsing of my legs is Tourette’s related, and thus there really is no fix for me.  I am indeed broken, and the best that can be done for me, unless I choose to try various medications (which I am loathe to do, due to side effects), is to maintain my current state.

I hate my current state.  It barely represents who I was when I was younger, and I find that I do not know myself at all.

Perhaps that’s what I hate most.  That I don’t know who I am anymore, and that the only word I can ascribe to myself beyond “Useless” is “failure”.

 Flail on,
 – Classical Spazz

~ by ClassicalSpazz on October 8, 2013.

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