prelude to epileptic fit

silly idiot, jumping at the imagined sound of a text message - the romantic context is like an eerie jamais-vu

there will be a cafe, where early deaths are encouraged - maybe i'll live to see it, haha - by then, i'll be a prime candidate, if not now

the repetitions of my job are increasingly insanely absurd - the "thank you"s, the "i don't think there's much in there," comments, the nano-scale smalltalk, the roteness, the gaps in between where i contrive things to do, or not do - but it's far better than a lot of other jobs i've had - i feel sorrier for the people that work behind the counter of the tim horton's where i go for my coffee and lunch breaks, than i do for myself - i absorb their hostility to me with acceptance and understanding

lines creep under my eyes - a perpetual sleep mask, anvils on the lids, iron chains on the limbs - but i still feel young and stupid - is this what anti-depressants and caffeine are doing for me? why am i still on this shit? maybe cause although it sounds like such a good idea, to get baseline pure in brain chemistry, i got a sneaking feeling i'd still be feeling whatever it is i'm feeling, whether on or off meds -  and i'm scared to go completely off the meds, what if i begin to go on hysterical crying jags? i have a feeling that could happen - maybe it should happen, maybe it's part of some long-term process i haven't dredged up the nerve to begin yet - so, i guess that means get off the meds, cause at least some side effects would be eliminated from the equation, and i wouldn't feel obliged to gag down vile coffee that i hate 59 times out of 60, or swallow pills, so many pills, i've learned to swallow pills, but it hasn't gotten much easier, i just tolerate that disgusting routine