I seriously am going through the ringer right now.
I don't know who I am anymore. I probably shouldn't
have read The Mysterious Stranger, especially that
final speech, it does not play nice with an unmedicated
mind. Getting sent to a residential soon, going to
stay for upwards of 4 months, I don't know if I'll
be the same person when I get out, not out of anything
traumatic happening while I am there, just off the basis
that I am not the same person I was 3 months ago, and I wasn't
the same person 2 months before that. I am constantly shifting,
mood wise, I turn into completely different people at random.
My psychiatrist thinks it is most likely schizoaffective bipolar
type.

This past week has been rough, I have lost all motivation to
work on anything, been mostly laying in bed. Told my mom that
the only thing that is keeping me alive anymore is the fact
that I don't want to spend my final moments thinking about
how much I'll fuck up her life with my leaving. I don't know
what to do anymore, I am tired, I feel done, but that little
ringing of empathy in the back of my mind keeps me from doing
the act.

Life is but a dream, that one phrase has been echoing in the
back of my mind, no. 44, philip traum, satan is an interesting
character, the book itself is interesting. It's eerie in the 
sense that I feel as if Satan represents Twain's disgruntled
view towards religion and different aspects of humanity 
and in a way, is the ghost of Twain brought to life. The book 
almost feels haunted. I'm too tired to go into detail, but I
feel that the final speech represents the death of Twain, even
if that wasn't intended. 

I'm going to cut this short, life is becoming a blur of bad
feelings again, and I'm not a big fan of that. So much for 
progress.

Goodnight SDF, it's like 01:00
-may