>>From: Belacqua
>>To: Perdita
>>Subject: Re: crashing and hart crane
>>Date: Fri, 15 Dec 2000

I hardly know who or where I am today. When I woke up, I was just kind of sitting there lethargically absorbing whatever useless shit TV was deciding to push into my head and then I remembered I had to pay some bills so I should probably get my ass out of bed and do it. Ever since I left the apartment I've been in fucking hyperdrive. I was absolutely flying through town today on narrow, crowded back streets, going from place to place and disregarding all other people on the road, and when I got to where I had to pay my bills, I disregarded parking places and stopped my car somewhere to pay them. I was so wound up I even went to the grocery store to get some food. I figured a loaf of bread and a package of sliced turkey would last me until I get home. And now I still feel totally out of control. I hate this feeling about as much as I hate feeling so depressed I can't move because now my head is moving so fucking fast I can't stop moving. Why can't I ever stop somewhere in the middle and have enough energy to do what I need to do and no more and no less? Now that I've taken care of everything I have to do today, I can't do anything but sit here and fidget until this decides to go away. That’s really the most fucked up part; I have to wait until this decides to go away. I don't have any fucking say at all in the matter even though it's my fucking head. God really has a sick fucking sense of humor.

I keep saying that I get sick of the meds, but I always have a little bit of hope when I get something new. It pisses me off to no end -- don't get me wrong -- but some little voice gasping from suffocation plants the idea that maybe this one will do SOMETHING, or maybe this particular mixture of chemicals will make something start firing in a good way. That little voice hasn't been right yet, and every time it gets a little quieter, but it's always there. Who knows? Optimism isn't my game. New medications don't hit me all that hard because I'm always on a new medication. The chemical content of my brain hasn't been stable for a really long time now, thanks to these miracle doctors. It's a wonder I'm still functioning. I've done more drugs than most cancer patients by now. I'm just waiting until I go in there and they hand me a bottle of opium and say, "To hell with it. You're too fucked up. Just keep taking this and don't ever come out of the cloud."

When you called this morning, I was seriously thinking, "How long would it take to sell my kidney? Could I get that done by this afternoon?" Then I wondered how much I could get for pawning my TV and stereo and guitar amp, and I'd be shocked if I could 50 bucks for all that combined. Pawn shops are evil. If I had the money, I'd be at the airport already, but at the end of semesters, I'm really scraping bottom. Even if I have to miss the first week of class, though, I'm going to visit you in January. Whenever I'm surrounded by people, I think about how great it was to be with you, and it just solidifies my resolve. And Bear is threatening to kick my ass if he doesn't get to visit you soon, and he's got a mean left cross.

Kind of an amusing story to hopefully bring a smile to your face: I saw the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life coming out of the grocery store today. There's one of those irritating Salvation Army bell-ringer people outside of the store, and I look over at them to shoot them a mean look, and I swear to god, the lady ringing the bell was talking to someone in sign language. A deaf Salvation Army bell-ringer: that is pure, undistilled irony. I almost dropped my bags.

Anyway, I hope the rest of your day goes well and the beginning of your weekend does too. I'm sure I'll call you sometime over the weekend because I'll need to hear your voice. I miss you so much it's killing me. I know I'll see you soon, but it's never soon enough.

I love you, Perdita.
Belacqua

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>From: Perdita
>To: Belacqua
>Subject: Re: crashing and hart crane
>Date: Fri, 15 Dec 2000

Belacqua,

I swear to god, the more they try to adjust the chemicals in my brain, the more I notice the subtle changes in it. I mean, before meds at all, I would feel those changes so intensely that it would literally interfere with EVERYTHING, and they're not that bad anymore. But at least then I understood them. Now, they're completely random subtle changes that have no reason at all for starting except to piss me off. So, the more normal I feel, the more pissed I get at the little changes. It's just solving one problem by replacing it with another. Consistency is really all I want. My doctor almost put me on Lithium, and I was kind of hoping he would because that's what they use to treat most bipolar patients, and I think I definitely have a bit of that somewhere. My highs and lows are so variable that it's hard for me to keep up with them. The only thing telling me otherwise is the fact that the highs are still so very low. Ah, who the fuck knows? I just take what they give me. I just hope the newest drug doesn't land me in the hospital.

I used to get those hyperdrive modes all the time a few months ago. I LOVED them because I could be so goddamn productive, but then when they went away, I couldn't do anything at all. I'd be sitting here at work, typing up journal entries or writing Damn It All to Hell, and my fingers would be flying over the keys so fast that it made my head spin. I mean, I'm a fast typist to begin with, but give me caffeine, speed, or Paxil, and I FLY. But then it wears off and I crash big-time.

Now that there's only about forty minutes left here at work, I feel a lot better than I did earlier. Like I was saying in my previous e-mail today, I just can't focus on anything but what's right the fuck in front of my face, so when I'm here at work and it's the middle of the day or the middle of the week, I just don't think it's ever gonna end. And that feeling is pretty goddamn convincing. But thank god I feel a little better now. My boss is in a great mood, and he just gave me a letter to type up and was thrilled with how fast I got it done, so I'm all good. I seriously love typing. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me, but there is something seriously FUN about typing. I don't know; call me crazy. Oh wait....

Now that the weekend is looming brightly above my head, I'm glad to be going home to nothing. I'm glad to be going home for a relaxing evening of not doing anything at all and not having to wake up at all tomorrow, and everything is bright and sunshiny somewhere between all those dark clouds in my life. This is the first time it's been sunny in my head ALL WEEK. Thank god for small miracles. I'm sure the whole trying a new medication thing tonight is part of it, too, because my little voice that says it may help is not quite squelched yet. We'll just have to wait and see.

Maybe this new medication will allow me to do a little reading this weekend. I've been too depressed to read all week. I keep telling myself I'll work on the stack of books that's grown on my desk, but just looking at them makes me feel overwhelmed with fatigue. It will never make sense to me how reading can make be feel tired. It seems like reading should be a nice, relaxing thing to do, but it takes a lot of energy for me to try and read because I'm constantly pulling my attentions away from other things, and that takes entirely too much effort.

I love you.
Perdita