The Obscure

I come to my senses tonight, fully prepared to kill.

For reasons that I cannot rightly explain, I have decided to abdicate pain medication for a time--if not permanently. I have come to resent the fact that I must spend the majority of my life in an near-catatonic state merely to be comfortable.
Therefore, right now I am in incredible pain. A small price to pay for lucidity, some might say; but experiencing it firsthand would dissolve such illusions.

Some part of me does not like to sleep. I think it is my paranoid center that does it to me. I am a very heavy sleeper--so I know that, in sleeping, I am entirely vulnerable to some inconcievable (but still terrifying) attack.
I do not think that is what I am here to talk about right now. I do not know exactly what I am here for, however. So I must leap from subject to subject until my strange longing for offensive words is satisfied.

I am finding myself in the same state I was in some four years ago. My father had cancer, I was crazy, I wasn't going to school, and I stayed up late every night thinking that my contemporaries hated me.
Now, my father is in remission, but my mother is getting gradually sicker, both myself and my sister are crazy, I haven't even APPLIED to a school, and I haven't had a straight night's sleep without the aid of completely incapacitating drugs in months. Positively, I do not stay up because I think people hate me. Negatively, I stay up because I hate myself and I no longer care whether others think at all, let alone think about Me.

I do this thing where I think too much, I start philosophizing about things that don't matter and have no bearing on the world. Sure, everybody does it. But there is a line that can be crossed. When you start allowing those inane philosophies born of loneliness invade your conception of reality, the world becomes strange and twisted.

"You're the Weather man?"
"No, I'm the Whether man. For after all it's more important to know whether there will be weather than what the weather will be."