I should probably do a vague attempt at an update.
In a nutshell - no money, no meds, living on a friends floor after mother told me not to come home after being kicked out of the latest Hospital for being a total tit. Which I really was.
While I sit here and still digest the situation three weeks later I do not find myself getting stupidly depressed over it. It may be because I'm still caught-in-the-headlights and somewhat frozen emotionally to it all tempoprarily or it could be because a part of me enjoys putting myself in quite bad situations (lets face it, anyone who has met me knows that I seem to be quite talented in this regard)
So I shall apologise to anyone wandering where the hell I am and whether i'm actually doing any arty-farty shiz-niz. Truth is I have not been all that motivated and anything I begin ends in frustration. The reality is it has been this way ever since the 16 sets of shocks that those bastards sent through my brain (other side effects have included an incredible amount of memory loss and total lack of hand eye coordination - understandably friends no longer invite me out to eat in "nice places" because I will inevitably spill all my food absolutely everywhere). Even though that was a while ago now (if anyone has the pleasure of having a psyche suggest ECT to you tell them to go fuck themselves. If you arein the situation I was in and are sectioned and therfore have no say, do everything you can to run the hell away to the other side of the world and adopt a false name so they can never track you down. Judging by the amount of less than normal Australians around here it seems people have already caught onto this)
Now my mind has wandered. To wandering why my nails taste like that nail-biting-stopping shit. The wondrous thoughts of Tallie /share
So I shall bid adios but if anyone wants to suggest a project/theme for me - go ahead. It seems I have far too much time on my hands.
Take care and remember - ceiling cat is watching you.
Tallie
xxxxx