Secret Garden - the back of my mind tells stories too

I have spent hours after hours awake at night, trying to convince myself that this is only a small phase in my life that I have to go through sooner or later. And sooner is always better. But when the night is still and there was no one around me, it is very difficult to think positively about myself. This phase. This meds and the solitary confinement are not the best combination. I can't do anything but just to hang in there. Alone. With a constant head spin and shaky room. 

I have spent the quiet night gazing at the walls in the darkness of my room, until they all went blurry and merged into a different universe full of shabbiness and gloom. There was no one to reach out to, and the programs on TV seemed like blur images with loud sound. Everything was so uncertain. I didn't know when the night is going to end. Every night seemed like eternal. 

When the dawn breaks and morning rise, I reprogrammed myself to be fully functioning socially. But I know that inside I am just an empty vessel operated by a series of brain cells. Every time I stepped out of my room in the broad day light, everything looks so surreal. It is almost virtual. Maybe this is what they defined as "virtual insanity", I went trippy in the sunlight. My legs seemed to move automatically without my consent. Taking step after step after step until I get to my destination for the day. Where I would sit, do the typing, counting, checking, writing, calling, chatting, joking, eating, drinking - whatever I needed to do for a few hours before I headed back to my room.

And then what happens next is only repetition of the routines. Sit in the dark, watch TV with blurry mind, tweeting, chatting, take the pills and stay awake for hours and hours and hours until the next dawn breaks. And it will repeats days after days after days... sometimes without anyone calling or texting (except for work stuff) or chatting or writing to me. And I subconsciously start to build a bubble around me as my safe haven. 

There were times when I sat and stare at my pills for 10 minutes before I took them. Wondering whether I should or should not take them. But my sanity always spoke to me and telling me that I had no choice. And that I cannot rely on anyone to remind me. And that I only have myself to count on. Sticks and stones. Damn if I do, damn if I don't. It is surely hard being on my own, when I spent most of my time trying to comfort others about their health. Trying to ease their weary mind about the medication. But when it is my turn, I am facing a long, winding and empty road ahead of me. That is always the time I realize that things are easier said than done. All the things I said to other when I tried to comfort them, seems to be impossible for me to apply.

I wish I could stop playing "tough cookie", but I can't. And it hurts! For once, I also want to embrace my vulnerability, my weaknesses, my melodramatic side, my human side... But I got no one to hold my hands...