The Obscure

Revelations.

The lithium is now completely out of my system, taking away the small bit of sanity it brought, and leaving behind the headaches I went on it in an attempt to stop.
My body has shut down on me, almost completely. I am writing now because... now that I am feeling those demons again, it seems like I have no choice.
I took my clonodine at about nine, I don't know what time it will hit me fully; so this post will be kind of a race against my biological clock.
It has been a bitch of a day, man. A real strange one. I'm not even going to get into it here or describe it here because the story is too long and because some of the persons involved would probably not like my take on it. Let it just be known that it has been a very rough day in the Colón household.

I think I may have to call in sick tomorrow, if I still feel this way tomorrow morning, which is very probable. These headaches seem to wax and wane, when they are shining in all their horrible blinding glory, it is a thing to behold: a Man, utterly crippled, unable to even walk without a stick or talk without taking enough sedatives to kill an ox to steady his shaking and his stutter. Yet, even when I am free of that particular torment, I am still being set down upon by the wieght of the headache that wanes. You see, it only wanes so much, it decreases to a certain point and then it stops. That point where it stops would be a normal persons migraine.
In this way, I am a cripple. There are many other ways in which I am not, and I dig that. But there is only so long a man can stand only looking at the sky through sunglasses, there is only so long a man can stand his mind and body being shut down by something neither he nor his doctors can even comprehend. I wonder, when will my meter run out? When will this body that has been decaying for so long finally give up and die? Will it be by my own hand? It is possible, though unlikely. Another man's hand? Less possible, less likely. Perhaps eventually I will just give up and surrender my will to live, as a love-bird does when it's parter dies. I would like that, to make a decision to go quietly into that good night.
But now is quite obviously not my time, I gave up my will to live long ago, and yet here I am, still alive, and still kicking, when I can move my legs, at least.
I didn't have anything to say when I started this post. I didn't say anything in the post, pardon any spelling or grammatical errors, as I am on clonodine wth a headache. I think I shall end it the same way I began, by saying essentially nothing.