Taunting and cruel

Brief was the right choice of word to use in that last post. I did manage about 14 hours of calm though. Better than none, right? Wrong. Having a reprieve for such a short time felt like having a piece of tantalizing chocolate dangled in front of my face while I'm PMS'ing but not allowing me to ever eat it...taunting and cruel.

The anxiety and paranoia that has overtaken me since the end of the glimpse at serenity has been exhausting. It keeps me from sleep. My mind is racing a million miles per hour and I'm constantly researching information on those I suddenly feel are attempting to scam me out of what little money I have. Constantly looking over my shoulder, searching for the presence that is following me. And in another rash, un-thought-out moment, I ditched my signature red hair in an attempt to hide from whoever or whatever it is that's stalking me.

I can feel the weight of the bull's eye on my chest. It's suffocating, I can barely breath. I keep wanting to run out into the street, outstretch my arms and scream for the them to just shoot already. I'm there for the taking. Collect your bounty and move on to the next target.

As I deal with my demons, my defective brain, I know that I also must keep up appearances that everything is okay. I almost feel like John Nash, as portrayed in the movie, A Beautiful Mind. In the end he wasn't cured, his delusions were still there, but he learned to live a life separated yet still connected to them.

The greatest acting performances aren't given by those that star on stage or on film. They are given by those of us that battle mental illness yet still somehow manage to continue on with some semblance of a life. However fragmented and false it appears to us from the inside, on the outside, most people are none the wiser.