I started Zoloft again: 12 de noviembre de 2014
I feel like a sage, a master of “letting things be.” I started Zoloft again three days ago and it’s been making me feel like vomiting, just vaguely, under-the-surface-enough so that I don’t actually do it. It also gives me some kind of head-eye perceptual high, I can’t figure it out.
It’s like nothing moves smoothly, everything twitches out of place when I’m not looking, at the very tips of the corners of my eyes, behind me, where I’ll never be. It feels like a sort of transparent wrap encapsulating a molar tooth, that same vibe as there and not there, instantaneously.
For that reason I didn’t run today. I got up at eight, took my pill, tried to eat breakfast but couldn’t swallow more than three crackers with peanut butter because of the effects. We smoked REAL marijuana, from Dante, and I felt how in the past that perfect ride would have been way too soft for me. But now I’m unaccustomed to smoking really good weed and small amounts are enough.
We went to the mini plaza, el encuentro? The perfect small park. I feel I haven’t been writing enough and it made me feel I lost touch with myself almost. I dunno. Now I have a book, well-written, to read and that serves as an inspiration. I need an adventure book. I feel like not having Zoloft, or rather, having not correctly weaned myself off of it, set me back on my mental progress. Like…achievement of enlightenment, in an infinitely subjective and biased and vague usage of the term.
I can’t figure myself out at all without writing. I can’t think without writing it out. Is that true?