robotsatemyhair

I'm in that withdrawn mode where I really don't want to talk to anyone, but I still want people to poke me with a stick now and then to see if I'm breathing.

This is complex in my household.

The medicine my doctor gave me to help counteract the cracked out feeling caused by some of my medications caused me to stay in bed all day. That was nice.

I dreamed about a man who jogs with a hatchet in his hand, blade side toward his chest. We called him the "Suicide Jogger."

There has been much death in my dreams... um.... as long as I can remember.