another year
i still don't know how to exist
i still don't get it on a functional level
i'm still trying to fake it

a string of pearls, end untied
each bead slides off in succession and falls away
eventually there are no more

i have counted my pearls as i returned them to the ocean
the tide is dark with tears
i want to touch the ocean's heart
in trying i will surely drown

In my journal, I've aways formated my intentional poetry like this. The subject and the body of the post contain the title of the poem, and the entire body has a margin indented from my standard posts. I also have made it a habit not to include current mood and current music on posts containing my intentional poetry, believing it important for the poetry to speak on its own. Often I write stream of consciousness posts with many line breaks. These end up looking like poems, but were not intended when written to be poetry. Maybe they are unintentional poems, maybe they are streams of mind glop, maybe they are both. I do know that I never considered that they might be considered poetry until people started talking about my stream of consciousness posts as poems. This isn't something new, but it is seeming more inescapable now and I'm beginning to wonder if they in fact in some way are.

I don't know why I never developed a heroin habit. I've had enough opertunities to do so, and I regret staying away. Heroin eventually kills you and as a bonus gives helps ease the pain along the way. Sounds good to me right now.

I've been very dizzy and fally today with a smaller degree of twitchiness. I did manage to make it to dan4th's New Year's waffle party. I particularly liked dan4th's gingerbread waffles. I enjoyed being at the party and having good talkings with the people, familiar and new, that were there. When it came time to leave, dan4th offered me a ride because I had been having "dizzy" episodes off and on while at the party. I declined because I felt guilty about taking him away from the party. I didn't want to be a burden. That was a mistake on my part. I made it halfway to the bus stop from dan4h's house when I ended up on the snow the first time. Went down again across the street from the stop. And again waiting at the stop for the bus. The third time, a passerby was worried and called the authorities. Luckily I was able to get up and on a bus before they arrived. However, I had an unusually intense episode while sitting on the bus and lost consciousness. I ended up missing my stop and getting off at Stop & Shop. Stop & Shop is a 20-30 minute walk to the house_of_clocks when I'm doing well, and I didn't have enough money to get back on the bus. I used my last 50¢ to call purpleglitter and ask her for a ride home. Unfortunately she was in Braintree with zarthon and couldn't help me, so I had to walk. It was quite cold and the walk didn't begin well. Almost a half hour after I left Stop & Shop, I had ended up on the ground four times and had traversed relatively little distance. I almost ended up crying in the snow because I didn't see how I was going to make it home. However, I did end up breaking out of the episode cycle and was soon able to walk the rest of the way home largely without problem. Even so, I felt a large wave of trappedness. I don't like feeling that I cannot leave the house without depending on the assistance of others. I don't want people to feel obligated to give me a ride home every time I visit them. I'm worried that people won't want to see me because of that. I feel like I was already a burden and now I'm becoming a greater and greater one. I know that things may not remain this way, that when I see my neurologist again I might get meds that might help me. But with so much fighting, I don't have faith in the medical establishment anymore. I don't have faith things will get better. Maybe I should be more optimistic, but I can't get myself to be. I just can't.