This moment will just be another story someday

Rambling post warning

Last Thursday my brain flipped shit and i ended up in hospital i wont bore you with the details but i basically was hallucinating and having a panic attack. For an awful long time I’ve fought the fact that how i think and react is wrong unfortunately it took moving chairs to make me realise that the people who’ve been trying to help me are probably correct. So today i’m going to start again i know that sounds cheesy but that’s what i’m going to do. I wont let myself get so stressed out about every little thing because i realise now the chances are whatever i’m stressing about isn’t the be all and end all there are always other options and i’m going to stop craving pain and hurt, i’m going to look at the positives of days rather than focusing on everything i could have done better or that didn’t work out. I’ve been buried in a hole for far to long but for some reason today it feels like i have a shovel so i guess this is my promise that even though things aren’t always easy i shall continue to dig until eventually i can see the sun again. 

I am going to rant before i have some form of mental breakdown

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Mother is ranting so i shall sit and listen to florence, i don’t think she’s realised nobody is paying the slightest bit of attention to her. I’m also having a flap over tomorrow i hate speaking to people on the phone i like to be able to see their faces so i can work out what they’re thinking however the world thinks i’m mad. I swear i’m perfectly sane despite the impression this post may give.

This week has seemed so unreal, i need to sleep or wake up. Can’t work that one out.

"There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won’t cure, but I don’t know many of them.”
- sylvia plath"

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
- Sylvia Plath"