Failing at Life

So I woke up last night wondering, what if my parents died? What would I do?

I mean I would be sad, but then I would have no one to support me, because I rely on my parents for money.

How would I make money? I don't have a college degree. College classes cost money. I couldn't take college classes anymore. I'd have to live on the street.

So I comforted myself by telling myself that, I would move in with Erik.

I could get more money than just SSI because I could also get social security if one of my parents is dead. But could I even live off that?

I'm actually really scared about my life. So I was drawing tarot cards to see if they could provide answers regarding the success of my mobile app. First I didn't get good cards. Then I started drawing some really good cards, like the Magician. Excellent card. Ace of wands. King of Pentacles. Good cards regarding the success of my mobile app.

I don't know how I would do it if my dad died, because I ask him questions regarding things. And how would I afford medication?

I feel like I fail at life. I feel like I have become incredibly lazy. Once upon a time, I was doing well. Back in the spring. And I worked out every morning, then worked on my book, then worked on learning objective C. And it was good.

It was actually quite pleasant and lovely when I became delusional again. But the after effects aren't so lovely. Now I can't get that energy back. I must find a way to get that energy back. I was so happy back in the spring. I felt confident. Now, I am sitting here, and I haven't showered in five days. I will shower today. I promise you, I will shower today.

So I'm thinking that the difference between then and now was, the SSRI's. Back then I was on Celexa. I think I need that again.

Resorting to the Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors

So, I have this problem. This problem is that my brain thinks it's psychic.

Actually, I am psychic. But I think I am psychic in a way that I am not. I imagine people having conversations about me. Then I convince myself that they are real.

Actually, I don't really actively convince myself that they are real, but the trouble is my brain reacts to these conversations as if they were real.

Sometimes they are happy. Sometimes it's fun. Sometimes it's like, hey, wouldn't it be nice if this one person said this about me? So I imagine them saying it. And then it's like, Wow, I can't believe this person said that about me! That's so sweet! Then I am happy.

Then it's like, the chemicals go awry. And without my permission, unhappy things start entering my head. And I am like, oh God, I am psychic! People are talking shit about me!! BLARGH!!!! AHHHHH!!!

I must clear my head. Clear my head. Drink some caffeine, beer (NO NOT BEER!!!!) and clear my head.

Alcohol works best. But I'm not supposed to be drinking anymore.

THOUGHTS LEAVE MY HEAD!!!

Wasn't there a time when my head was clear? When I didn't have to imagine imaginary conversations to be happy? Because that's what I do, imagine imaginary conversations in order to find some sort of peace and happiness. But it gets out of hand. I look at a word, and subconsciously, I associate it with something in my life, good or bad. Usually bad. And then I start fucking freaking out.

It's chemical, man. I need to change the chemicals in my brain.

I think I might have to resort to the selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors.