I feel like smoking. I feel like I really need a fag, but I've promised not to smoke at home and I haven't smoked since I went in to hospital, so I don't really need one physically, I just feel like one. It's kinda like with food. I feel like eating, or I don't, but it has nothing to do with hunger. I may be hungry for hours and still not feel like eating. And sometimes right after eating, I'll feel like eating more. It's weird how the mind and the body are so disconnected yet connected at the same time.
I feel a bit disconnected too. I feel like sleeping but I'm awake. I'm tired but I don't want to go to bed. I am anxious, yet I'm calm. I shake all over, yet I feel fine. My lymph node is big again, but thankfully my dad's painkillers work for it for now. On Friday I need to get something for me. It's not nerve pain now. It's regular pain, just on steroids.
Yet though I know I have to see a doctor because of this, I don't feel like falling down and crying. And yet I constantly feel like falling down and crying. I feel so disconnected from myself, yet I feel like I know myself better because of this. I know what's me and what's not me. But the dreadful part is...it's all just me. I don't have anything else or anyone else in me, it's just all me, and still I don't feel like me. I feel depressed and scared. That's not me, I don't get depressed or scared.
I actually hope my future psychiatrist will read these, because I suppose it will be a good way of knowing me better - away from my speech, my manners and my smile. I try to smile whenever I can and wherever I am. Though these days it's not that easy and especially with hospitals, doctors, my smile can disappear quickly. And I don't want them to think I'm too positive when I want to kill myself. I don't want to now. I did before, for a long time, I don't now, but then again, I'm taking anti-depressants to keep me happy. So. That's it, I guess. I'm happy.