Can’t sleep and the monster wants to come out to play.

I didn’t expect to still be awake at 5:30am. For some reason the pills haven’t worked their magic tonight and I’ve spent the last few hours curled up on the sofa staring at the cushions, and latterly, laughing to myself whilst trying to remove the fixed grin on my face. I hate those mini highs, when my eyes feel like they’ve been glued together through lack of sleep, yet I can’t keep still and the thoughts are racing through my head. I’m still smiling now, though there is a maniacal edge to it. The me who is smiling is also the me who wants to slice into my skin just for the hell of it. She wants to dance round the room then go play on the railway line. Go down to a&e and chat up a few doctors. Bounce off a few walls. Sing out loud then stab a few pensioners. You get my drift. She’s not a particularly nice person.

I think there are at least two of us. The first is the gatekeeper. She takes her meds because she knows it’s the sensible thing to do. The grown up. The square. God I hate her, she’s so bloody boring. She reminds herself constantly of the coping strategies she has learnt in therapy. She plods along in her boring life, acheiving nothing apart from her most important job. Keeping the gate locked and the monster on the other side of it.

Because that’s the other me. The one who no one sees. The one who puts pictures into my mind of violence and rape and rage. I think she does it to taunt me. To remind me she is still there. She wants to be let loose to cause havoc. She is emotionally a child, but with the strength of ten men. All my life she has been lurking there in the background, grumbling and complaining and wanting to be set free. She’s never quite managed it. The boring me has usually gone to the doc and asked for more pills. Or taken an overdose to kill us both.

And then I suppose there is the me who is writing this down. The one who just wants it to be over. This constant fight between the other two. The one who wants to let the monster out, but only if I can disappear at the same time. That way I don’t have to take responsibility for the carnage. The relief of just letting fate take its course. Why am I taking pills to put off the inevitable? Surely therapy and meds are for people who can aim to lead decent lives. Why don’t the doctors and therapists see through my disguise to the evil underneath? If I was a decent person I would kill myself, rather than risk ever hurting someone. But I am a coward. I put it off day after day, living a pointless existence because I’m too scared to die and too scared to live. My head gets so full of thoughts I wish I could get my fingers under my skull and pull them out.

I don’t know why I feel like this tonight. It could be pms or it could be because my gp remarked that I’d been doing well for the last few months and therefore, I have to prove him wrong. It could be worry over my Dad but in that respects I am never happier than when involved in someone elses crisis. I take other people’s misery and use it to garner sympathy for myself. You know what I spend hours imagining these days? Getting cancer and all the attention that goes with it. I am one truly sick bitch.


2 Responses to “Can’t sleep and the monster wants to come out to play.”

  1. Lola Snow Says:

    You are sick Bip. but sick as in ILL! You are feeling this way because you have an illness not because you are a bad person. I’m sorry that you are suffering at the moment, because you don’t deserve to feel this way, and it’s worse when you find it hard to see that. I wish I didn’t identify so much with this post, but I do, and I’m thinking of you.

    Lola x

  2. bippidee Says:

    Damn these mood swings. Up and down like a rollercoaster right now. I reread all my blog entries last night and realised that these feelings about being a monster are quite frequent. I need to think about that. Thanks for the support hon. xx

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