drugs in my body.

I’m not too sure where I am these days. I don’t mean physically; unfortunately I know exactly where I am stuck on this rock. I mean mentally.

I don’t know if being on so many different medicines in such a short time is catching up with me.
I don’t know if the medicine I’m on now is finally taking over my brain.
I really just don’t know.

I’m also not sure I really want to know where I am these days.

It’s difficult to articulate but, as always, I’m attempting to put to words the sluggish feeling that permeates the grey matter hidden inside my skull. It’s not exactly a slow, sluggish feeling but the idea of a rapid moving slug is a horrible metaphor.

Sluggish clearly isn’t the correct word here.

I could use words along the same lines as “zombie-like” but that’s not adequate. I’m more than capable of getting through the day, all while speaking in complete sentences and avoiding car accidents.

I suppose this is the best way to describe where I am these days:

I have a lot to say but I don’t feel like wasting the breath on words that I feel tip-toeing off my tongue and gently falling to the ground like leaves in a light breeze. It’s as though what I think and how I feel and the words I use to describe those just aren’t propelled with enough force to make it from my brain to my lips to someone else’s ears.
I feel physically exhausted; my body aches and my feet are so hesitant to move. Directly opposite to this though, my mind is still on auto-pilot, constantly fluttering from one idea to the next like a neurotic moth surrounded by blinking Christmas lights. I can’t stop it. Thinking is intoxicating and, were my brain capable of shutting up for a moment, I wouldn’t know what to do with the obnoxious silence that would follow. I imagine I would get anxious and need to move.
I can’t stand to be alone but find it very difficult to connect with anyone around me. You know when you’re a child and you watch a mime give the impression they’re stuck in a box? I am that mime. The box, though invisible and probably not really there, prevents me from actually engaging with my surroundings. I am one bullet-proof window away from really being in the moment.

Perhaps this is all difficult to really fathom, and if it’s not then I clearly didn’t do a very good job at explaining. I understand there are people who are going to read this who might genuinely believe they know what I’m talking about (and perhaps a few might actually get it) but I’m skeptical to trust that familiarity. It isn’t that I’m under the impression that what I’m experiencing right now is unique and solely my experience- no, that would be such a foolish thought. What it comes down to, really, is that I don’t trust that my words have said enough or described enough to fully and accurately explain where I am these days.