Nobody will care after (7) Years of my Schizophrenic story.
If you want a really good description in one of my PRIOR blogs check out
theoccupyfashion.blogspot.com
I'm just trying to SAVE-POINT my life before I run out of Adderall. I cannot type when I don't have my pill, can't EVEN THINK LIKE ME, I move slow and REALLY SUFFER in this B.r.c. SHELTER of DEPRESSION and just have to make my way BACK TO MY PILL. I have to find a new PRESCRIBER, a NEW DOCTOR. I have to DITCH this NURSE TATCHER WOMEN, assure that (2) these people are never speaking to me.
Hell, at this point (2) I have to COUNT the amount of DAYS I did/or didn't sign in for my STUPID fucking bed, in FEAR that I'll be the THROW away of the DAy. And you can come back, nice fuckers (2) (2) to the shelter after they throw away your stuff, (2) but now YOU have no clothes and well, DON'T CHANGE is theIR common CONCEPTION. Most of the people in the place don't shower, I have DONE NOTHING in life to DESERVE living in this sort of place (2) and am THINKING of RETURNING to CouchSurfing.
Of course, this INVOLVES speaking to people and I fear what my conditions have gotten me to.
See biting my hand and shaking (2) keeps me from people a bit. And LIVING in shame.
I have logged my life, in Matt and Kim Albums. Albums, to logg my schizophrenia. (2). An album for sanity, an album I purchased with my friends, that ABOVE my Bed in BROOKLYN I literally ENACT, in FEAR of the voices, not KILLING-MYSELF-BECAUSE (2) of a note I wrote to Caitlin Rodriguez-Who YEARS LATER would be the MUSE to MARRY (even though I didn't think I was talking to people-I still thought I had a WORLD FORTUNE). It was SO HARD to (2) (2) make it through (1) one that SURELY like I was told, I was the richest man in the world, as a result and payment for GRADUATING in the PAIN I did. But I was just in pain, and I don't really have family, and I pushed AWAY my ADOPTED family the Guptas (who I STILL LOVE, AND IF YOU EVER READ THIS I LIVE FOR THE DAY I CAN MAKE YOU PROUD-AND RETURN TO 120 Buck Hill Road. ) And I assured I was on cocaine because I was on T.v. front The School of Visual Arts (my art school) and The Pratt Institute, and I WAS REPRESENTING art school. And It was supposed to be like the Rock and Roll High School, but with my Biological father and on H.b.o. (like my DADDY returns-and it turns out-I love him front my (2) art school-and then I go to live with him-and DIE-like my ART SOUL dies- like my ex-girlfriend from childhood @F.I.T. Christie Cummings (2) (2) and her fate. She had a child most recently, but that's not the point. The point that one of the RANDOM plotlines in Little Nemo on H.b.o. in (1) was I lose my ART SOUL, because my DADDY who I said I'd never see-I saw-and he loved me). And you know, in the WORLD I live in IN-BETWEEN (D)dimensions I almost died at Palmetto Road, almost got ERASED, because I put on a show with SOMEBODY (2) from the government, in Little Nemo on H.b.o. which is where all my creative Adderall ideas come from, and all the stories of the PREVIOUS blogs.
And it all just comes down to (2) when I want to face the next even, Panhandling, or to GET my memory fixed, if I get tricked INTO-in-patient, and I have NO IDEA how long that takes, so I can get to the next level. BECAUSE I CONSIDER (2) my life in LEVELS and will call this LITTLE NEMO ON H.b.o. no matter what.
(2) even if I get tricked off my pill.
Even though the whole point is my ex-girlfriend Anna Gripentrog called them Candy.
Fun-We are Young@31 I face my School of Visual Arts 2008(2) GRADUATION condition of Little Nemo on H.b.o. and the DAMAGE the CONDITION of trusting the GHOSTS in (1) has left me.
Save point of Anxiety at Apple Store.
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