The Drivel Thread

[Light Housework]

Women, so many of them, like patchouli oil. I've had 3 mental health workers smelling of it, and two of them have gotten the stuff on my towel, and my jacket sleeves, telling me it's an oil blend, and neglecting to tell me that there's patchouli in it, even after I've told them that patchouli smells like mold to me. I had to wash my towel, about a year ago, after a mental health worker went on a patchouli binge, and then used my towel, and right now my jacket's in the washer because on Sunday, a mental health worker showed me her roll on oil blend, and I asked her what the ingredients were, and she read most of them off, but neglected to mention the patchouli. That was Sunday, and my jacket sleeves still stink of it. Take your patchouli and shove it!

 

[TheSmiths_1985]

Women, so many of them.

Story of my life.

 

[Light Housework]

I'm bored and restless tonight, and unable to concentrate on anything for long. I'm considering myself to be currently lucky, that I have the luxury of boredom and restlessness. I tried to sleep, watch a video, write in ink, read an ebook, and the restlessness takes over. It's a good night, when my biggest problem is restlessness. I just hope I won't be too tempted to sleep all day for having been awake all night.

I guess I'll try doing a gratitude list, in ink. That might ground me, and if not, it'll be time well spent.

 

[Light Housework]

So I did a gratitude list, and I'm still restless. I guess I'm lonely. That's what is going on. Papa Jack comes to mind.

 

[Light Housework]

 

[Light Housework]

Someone diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder

 

[Optimistic Fool]

I don't know what this is, but I wrote it, and didn't know where to put it…

I know- I know- meaning that I already thought you'd think this, saw that you would say this- I know, that you feel like you don't deserve all these things, but you don't understand. I must give. I need to give. If I don't, it'll all turn in on me, shove me down, and suffocate me, until I give it all- I have to give. If you feel the emotion in the abovementioned song, like it's ripping your heart out in place, hollowing it out by seizing the pulp of your soul, and leaving an empty and wearied skin, until somebody gives back. But that never means I'm let free of my need to give. I must- if I have nothing to give, the need will haunt me still, like a hunger- maybe there is no food, but how many times will you walk around searching pantry and fridge and cupboard until you find something out of nothing? I need to give. Give, give, give, pukes out my mind, until bile is all that's left, just to give.
Give- more- give- more- more… a sour piercing burn that stings my throat as I dance to "Ghost Town Blues". I can dance, because I gave. Even if I had hardly anything to say, a weak drawing, yet I have to give, had to give, and I gave, of the specks left to cough out. Anything, until I have cookies. I will give, and I will give. And give. I will give. And rarely get back. But I must give- although no one else is learning to.

 

[A scanty bit of thing]

I don't know what this is, but I wrote it, and didn't know where to put it…

I know- I know- meaning that I already thought you'd think this, saw that you would say this- I know, that you feel like you don't deserve all these things, but you don't understand. I must give. I need to give. If I don't, it'll all turn in on me, shove me down, and suffocate me, until I give it all- I have to give. If you feel the emotion in the abovementioned song, like it's ripping your heart out in place, hollowing it out by seizing the pulp of your soul, and leaving an empty and wearied skin, until somebody gives back. But that never means I'm let free of my need to give. I must- if I have nothing to give, the need will haunt me still, like a hunger- maybe there is no food, but how many times will you walk around searching pantry and fridge and cupboard until you find something out of nothing? I need to give. Give, give, give, pukes out my mind, until bile is all that's left, just to give.
Give- more- give- more- more… a sour piercing burn that stings my throat as I dance to "Ghost Town Blues". I can dance, because I gave. Even if I had hardly anything to say, a weak drawing, yet I have to give, had to give, and I gave, of the specks left to cough out. Anything, until I have cookies. I will give, and I will give. And give. I will give. And rarely get back. But I must give- although no one else is learning to.

 

[nicky wire's legs]

I don't know what this is, but I wrote it, and didn't know where to put it…

I know- I know- meaning that I already thought you'd think this, saw that you would say this- I know, that you feel like you don't deserve all these things, but you don't understand. I must give. I need to give. If I don't, it'll all turn in on me, shove me down, and suffocate me, until I give it all- I have to give. If you feel the emotion in the abovementioned song, like it's ripping your heart out in place, hollowing it out by seizing the pulp of your soul, and leaving an empty and wearied skin, until somebody gives back. But that never means I'm let free of my need to give. I must- if I have nothing to give, the need will haunt me still, like a hunger- maybe there is no food, but how many times will you walk around searching pantry and fridge and cupboard until you find something out of nothing? I need to give. Give, give, give, pukes out my mind, until bile is all that's left, just to give.
Give- more- give- more- more… a sour piercing burn that stings my throat as I dance to "Ghost Town Blues". I can dance, because I gave. Even if I had hardly anything to say, a weak drawing, yet I have to give, had to give, and I gave, of the specks left to cough out. Anything, until I have cookies. I will give, and I will give. And give. I will give. And rarely get back. But I must give- although no one else is learning to.

This is great.

 

[Optimistic Fool]

This is great.

Thank you…

 

[Light Housework]

I don't know what this is, but I wrote it, and didn't know where to put it…

I know- I know- meaning that I already thought you'd think this, saw that you would say this- I know, that you feel like you don't deserve all these things, but you don't understand. I must give. I need to give. If I don't, it'll all turn in on me, shove me down, and suffocate me, until I give it all- I have to give. If you feel the emotion in the abovementioned song, like it's ripping your heart out in place, hollowing it out by seizing the pulp of your soul, and leaving an empty and wearied skin, until somebody gives back. But that never means I'm let free of my need to give. I must- if I have nothing to give, the need will haunt me still, like a hunger- maybe there is no food, but how many times will you walk around searching pantry and fridge and cupboard until you find something out of nothing? I need to give. Give, give, give, pukes out my mind, until bile is all that's left, just to give.
Give- more- give- more- more… a sour piercing burn that stings my throat as I dance to "Ghost Town Blues". I can dance, because I gave. Even if I had hardly anything to say, a weak drawing, yet I have to give, had to give, and I gave, of the specks left to cough out. Anything, until I have cookies. I will give, and I will give. And give. I will give. And rarely get back. But I must give- although no one else is learning to.

Now I have this song in my head.

 

[Optimistic Fool]

Now I have this song in my head.

Don't know much newer morrissey stuff haha

 

[Optimistic Fool]

It used to feel like you had almost to relearn the place when you woke up. But it's strange how now it isn't like that. Now it's different. Now it feels like an hour of sleep for the next day. But it's not. It's around ten hours (give or take). But it feels like I'm always awake, always waking, always doing, always tired.


By the way, does anyone else have to spend 5 minutes in their notes to figure out the perfect text?

 

[Light Housework]

It used to feel like you had almost to relearn the place when you woke up. But it's strange how now it isn't like that. Now it's different. Now it feels like an hour of sleep for the next day. But it's not. It's around ten hours (give or take). But it feels like I'm always awake, always waking, always doing, always tired.


By the way, does anyone else have to spend 5 minutes in their notes to figure out the perfect text?

At least five minutes, usually, I'll spend writing, before I'll communicate in any way with anyone.

 

[Light Housework]

I'm calm, observant, and a little happy tonight. I tidied up some, and organized a bit, amid dust, and yesterday I made soup and went for a long brisk walk with a mental health worker and we had a great chat. My windows are open and the temperature in my apartment is perfect for wearing my polar fleece zip up hoodie, and polar fleece pants over sweatpants. I'm in no pain of any type. I wish I could bottle the way I feel and keep some in the pantry for a rainy day.

Usually, I feel lonely and bored, or preoccupied at best.

 

[Light Housework]

I noticed some new accounts on this site, advertising various services. What's with that?

 

[davidt]

I noticed some new accounts on this site, advertising various services. What's with that?

Spammers are always attacking the site. Some got through, will investigate.

 

[Optimistic Fool]

I wish I could bottle the way I feel and keep some in the pantry for a rainy day.

Usually, I feel lonely and bored, or preoccupied at best.

I know exactly how you feel.
I haven't felt like, really good, since July probably. 'Cue the ending to Take it Easy on Me (A House)'.
I've found a solution, and probably if I was anyone else I would be seeing some sort of mental health person, but I don't.

 

[Optimistic Fool]

I'm not really honestly sure how I actually feel when people ask me, because I feel a lot different when I'm alone, and I'm alone most of the time. So when there is somebody who asks me, I usually don't know how to answer when anyone asks it.

 

[Light Housework]

I'm not really honestly sure how I actually feel when people ask me, because I feel a lot different when I'm alone, and I'm alone most of the time. So when there is somebody who asks me, I usually don't know how to answer when anyone asks it.

Writing in ink a lot helps me to know how I feel. Keeping the pen moving faster than my inner censor can keep up with me gets me blurting out how I really feel.