Alas I have one more day of freedom. In my head, I toss around the idea of surviving another 90 days. I imagine myself laying down, somewhere I can watch clouds and make pictures out of the completely random shapes that clouds are. I could lay there for the entire 90 days and see if I don't get hungry. Could I live on air? Possibly not. I can't even explain why I think another 90 days will work. It's never worked before, yet this time it feels slightly different. Perhaps I can change the way I think about things, close my eyes and let the thoughts spin around and around. Sometimes one of the thoughts overrides all the others and becomes an obvious point of contention battling it out with my conscious mind, each one trying to win. But I see myself laying there with little white socks and red patent mary janes. Yet I cannot see how old I am.

I wonder if I should be trying to start 90 days again. But I have no idea where it all begins and where it ends. At least I found today society is going to give me a helping hand, but no one should know that, so don't go telling anyone. I sometimes wonder if one day my body will just decide it's had enough. The problem is, I've no idea if it's just going to sneak up on me and I'll have no warning, so I keep on abusing it no end, and perhaps I'll wake up one day to find my body completely wrecked. Lest it be my mind.

How can it be that I feel like I am in multiple worlds. Crossing back and forth, trying to remember how to fit in each time my mind jolts back to where my body is. It feels somewhat surreal and kinds of like I'm floating with my eyes closed. Behind my eyes a scene unfolds and then I wake to find I am somewhere else.

I feel uneasy tonight. Like a bomb is going to fall out of the sky and I'll have to deal with the aftermath. It would be better to die if that were to happen.

Today I received the equivalent of 20 peoples blood, in the form of gammaglobulin. It takes 10 donors per unit. The two units I have every four weeks equates to 20 people. Perhaps that's why my mind is so scrammbled. I literally don't know who I am. At the very least, I can tell you those 20 people must be somewhat verging on mad. When I feel that first cold flush of medicine pulse through my veins, I really do wonder whose blood, or rather blood product, I am getting. Was it a woman or a man, how old were they, are they boring, what do they like to do. I can only assume they are reasonably healthy as otherwise they probably wouldn't be able to donate. I can also probably assume that they are a somewhat altruistic, having wanted to donate blood in the first place. I have a lot to thank them for. All 20 of them, every four weeks. I realised today how having continuous medical treatment is such an everyday reality and experience for me. I met another lady who was so obviously a first timer. Her whole family was there to 'support' her. I don't even think of what I have done as being a big deal. It's just what I do to live. Mind you, that doesn't mean I haven't had times where I just want stop everything and see what happens, if I would die, even if it be by my own hand. However, the last few weeks have been so good. I haven't felt so good in years. Suddenly I have more energy and a much more positive outlook on life, even if it is somewhat screwed up.

I have an intense fear of Sunday afternoon. I have a fear of the fear. When the clock strikes 12pm I start to worry and anticipate the dread and fear that will arise and increase as the afternoon ticks by. Sometimes the actual happenings of the afternoon are kind of ok, but before I've realised that I've worked my mind into a state of worry and my stomach into knots of dread. It doesn't help when what started out as a sunny bright day has turned into a grey cloudy sky by the afternoon. One of the Dr's told us that drug addicts feel a sense of relief when they are simply anticipating a hit and their body starts to physically respond as if they had actually had the drug. My body is responding this way to Sunday afternoon. A fear of fear. Something that nobody wants to deal with.

It is with great amusement and revelation that I come to realise I am obsessed with the numer 3. Number 3, number 3, number 3. Three three three. 3 3 3.

It is with great amusement and revelation that I come to realise I am obsessed with the numer 3. Number 3, number 3, number 3. Three three three. 3 3 3.

It is with great amusement and revelation that I come to realise I am obsessed with the numer 3. Number 3, number 3, number 3. Three three three. 3 3 3.

How amazing is this; I have made it through the day without my mind becoming too fragmented. However, it doesn't mean that I chose the harder path to take me through the day. I chose an easy and familiar pather, a path that would often twist and turn. A path that messed with my head trying to decide how intense and complicated things could get before the end of the day. Choosing an easy path in not always a good answer. The longer I choose an easy path, the longer and harder it will be to walk down a hard path. The problem is that the hard path is the one I really need to be taking, the easy path is a cheat's way, a way of denying what's really going on.

The studio is a little haven for me. I'm trying to paint a water scene. It's quite hard doing it close up because it's only when you stand back from it that it merges to create what looks like water. I like being there, listening to my favourite music, drinking lots of coffee and totally focusing on getting creative. Today was a really positive day, not even a rush of bad feelings in the afternoon. I need to figure out how I can sustain it constantly.

I wonder how different the world would be if nobody could think beyond a single moment. Beyond a desire for immediate satisfaction. Would we eventually learn to try and visulise the future. I don't like it when peope cannot think beyond what is in front of them, superficial scenes, like sets from a play. There is nothing behind the facade, everything is one dimensional with no depth and hence no substance. If there is no substance how could one possibly feel anything that gets to the core of who they are. I want to feel like there is so much more beyond my tiny existence. I don't mean more in the sense of bigger, better and far reaching. I mean beyond the scope of anything I could ever imagine, something that explodes into your mind to force you to consider how amazingly deep and complicated the mind is.

Today I was so intrigued to hear and know that there are people who think the same way. People who seem to understand that there is more to life than just getting through the day on a practical level. I met people who have the same desire as me to feel the most extreme and intense emotions possible. When I say 'possible' it gives it a beginning and an end, yet that is not what I want to portray. Despite how happy one has felt and how low one has felt, I don't believe that means there is a definitive scale with a beginning and an end. The scale one works on today may change in time. Perhaps the more one thinks, the more one explores and discovers in the world, then the beginning and the end of the scale will change over time. I don't want the scale to stay the same. If it stayed the same it probably means I'm not expanding my world. No one should ever limit their capacity to feel.

Every now and then in my life I feel what is probably a deep sense of displacement and uneasiness. Caught out. A fraud, or rather a freak, who somehow landed in the wrong life. Actually not the wrong life, but the wrong world. I want a world without a sense of order, no rules that simply serve to preserve employment. In my idealist world there would be no need for 'jobs'. People would simply do things because they needed to be done. We wouldn't need food or medicine. My world would be based around satisfying and exploring the deep deep burrows of the brain, and how we think. I hate having to be practical, it only serves to make people more and more numb. When you hear a song that brings incredibly emotional feelings flooding back, well that's how I want my whole world to be. I hate the mundaneness, it sends me even more mad than I already am. Let me lie back and feel like I'm free falling with music throbbing through my veins and heart, sending deep emotions swirling around around my body. In my world everyone would feel that, everyone would look at each other with such intensity there would be an incredible connection between every human being. The only problem one might encounter is that rage and jealousy and as equally strong emotions as is love.

Sunday afternoon so often brings that impending sense of doom and here it is again. The light is fading and has that eerie bleakness about it that haunts me and twists my stomach into knots. I baked a cake, started the ironing all in an attempt to get rid of the bad feelings but it' s not working. There is something I could do and it will momentarily bring about something warm inside, but then I know it will be pushed out of the way by the feeling of doom wanting to invade my mind and body again. Tears, tears, tears.

Today I felt no pain.

A woman and a female child once set out to discover something new. But they discovered something old, that they had long forgotten about. It shocked them and it thrilled them to find that something they thought had been buried was still there. It had been there all along, it just hadn't occurred to them that it needed further attention before it could be buried. They tried to give it a name, so they could both see something in it that connected them to it. They argued back and forth until they were worn out. The woman left and never came back. The child kept looking at the thing and decided it didn't have a name, that the child could not even decide exactly what it was. It grew and the child could no longer carry it. She had long tried to understand it, but decided it could no longer be carried by her. The child had no choice but to leave it, despite not understanding it and not having quite finished with it yet. I don't know whatever happended to that child.

Where does time come from and where does it go. Why does all the fun I have disappear into a void. But likewise all the bad things go there to. I'd like to think I could follow the time or more forward into it, but no matter how 'fast' or 'slow' it appears to go by it apparently always stays the same, no faster, no slower. When you're little everything seems to go so slow and when you grow up we always think it goes by too fast. I like to think that the time that has passed us by is now in someone else's world. Somewhere slightly smaller and then it goes on through to the next world, getting smaller each time until it is just a fragment of it's former self, denying someone the pleasure of using it slowly. It's gone all too soon.

But here lies a problem. Today I deliberately let a time slowing substance sink into my mind, letting my mind hear every single slow heart beat and every single slow breath beneath the surface. If I let it get loud enough every other noise disappears and I can hear and feel my heart beating inside my ears. Then there is a slight ringing and I can take myself back to all the external noises and then back inside my head again. But as it all wears off to see the end of another day, I realise it was just a slowing down of the day, a tick tock tick tock that prolongs the agony of another night. Prolongs the agony of another nightmare.

Such a positive day. But am I denying the spiralling downwards that sometimes scares me to the bone. I think about how one little thing could bring everything undone and send me back to the worst I've ever been, or even worse. I try and imagine how it would be if I'd chosen to to retreat and deny myself the pleasures that I've had. Perhaps I'd be in a better state of mind, albeit a stagnant and boring state of mind. All I want to think about is how I can sustain the pleasure and the pain all in one hit.