I was sitting on the edge of the bed and felt like I was tumbling backwards. It was strange to see my stillness in the mirror. It felt like it took my brain a while to catch up with what eyes were telling it.
The sun is out. High in the sky. My window is open full and I can feel it hot on the side of my face. It pleasing after several grey days. It is blustery and the wind is swirling around my room disturbing my papers, revision notes and photographs.
I am back from getting my prescription filled at the pharmacy. I felt awkward as I sat waiting for it. I always do. Blue sky, some clouds, still blustery. I’m wearing lilac-coloured socks. I really like them, I’m going through a bit of pale purple phase. I bought three pairs of them but I wish I’d brought the rest. This is what I was thinking when I was waiting for my prescription to be filled.
Headache. I fear it could be a bad one so I take co-codamol. It has no effect so an hour later I take a propranolol. Half an hour later the headache begins to ease.
I went for a walk this evening, it was uninteresting. The sky was starry but not completely clear. As I headed home the moon was starting to disappear behind the hill where the observatory used to be.
I feel low tonight but I can’t figure out why. Probably more withdrawal symptoms from the escitalopram. The trouble with escitalopram is, on the one hand, I feel balanced and functional and on the other, numb and a bit slow cognitively. While it reduces my anxiety, it sometimes makes social interaction even more awkward especially when I get stuck in the middle of a sentence because the word I’m after has disappeared in the escitalopramic fog or I’ve forgotten what I was talking about. As someone who has always had a good memory, I find it both frustrating and worrying.
1.29 am. In bed, the fan is on. I’m wondering if I should put my ear plugs in, I like the sense of isolation they create. It seems pointless, you don’t have the television on and the fan isn’t disturbing me.
7.07 am. The room is cool, you would say that it is cold.
The sun is hot and my window is open full. There is some sort of work being carried out down the street. Very loud heavy machinery, the high-pitched scream of concrete being cut. Hammering. The sound of summer.
The room cools quickly when the clouds obscure the sun.
The brown cat appears at the window announces herself then climbs in while Elizabeth Taylor watches from my wall.
I dreamed of a vaguely familiar blonde girl with glasses. She sat next to me in a classroom and whispered seemingly intimate things into my ear but I couldn’t tell what she was saying, she laughed at my bemusement. We were surrounded by a lot of boys and I sensed hostility from them.
In another dream, I travelled to a house I used to live in. There was a girl there with short brown curly hair who I was told was a recovering alcoholic by a familiar man with long hair in a ponytail. She wore a floor-length Venetian red velvet night dress with a Mandarin collar. When the man with the ponytail left, she begged me to buy her a bottle of brandy. I felt bad because I wanted to, just to please her. I was both relieved and sad to get away from her.