Defenseless

Six o’clock.

Daylight is on the way, through an overcast. My mental state is always changing, but even more radically since yesterday. I feel like a different self from the one with schizophrenia.

Eight thirty five. Not much in the mood for writing, and that’s a switch. My dose of Vraylar is at 4.5 mg daily. Can’t predict where the benefits will take me. I don’t feel like I used to after the illness. I slept decent last night because of no caffeine yesterday. As far as reading material, I will read what I want to read. Was Jeff right that I’m just a hedonist? And yet he makes a hypocrite of himself. For the record then, I guess I do like pleasure and despise pain. Like my parents. I wish I could spin the clock back to the mid nineties, when the autumns were so comfortable and Duck football was on the television. With music, I seemed to have found my calling. Entertainment is all about feeling good… The church brainwashing is wearing off and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m having a tough time. Probably all the remedy in the world couldn’t make me useful and productive. My parents must have spoiled me. The critical period for learning the work ethic is long past. I feel like I can’t defend myself from myself. Not even with my diagnosis. It feels like me against the whole world. But the pandemic can’t last forever…