Where is my mind....?

It's 2008.

And I still can't remember shit..

I've stopped going to my hospital appointments now. They find nothing out. Making me feel like a waste of their time, or making me feel disheartened, as everytime I was going I was hoping for them to find out what was going on.

Sadly, real life is nothing like House M.D.

Nosebleeds and post-it-notes, thats me.

So I took a fitting picture to show my frustration.

I suppose if all else fails, I could model Calvin Klien.. I look good in black and white..

The Lost Art Of Keeping A Secret

Been a while since I stumbled myself into this text box and told of the many adventures of my days. Well, truth be told, not so adventuring as of late. And, not much of a life either.

The neurologist. Did his thing. Apparently he's not concerned that I'm losing my memory. Or that I'm passing out, or that I'm having nosebleeds left right and center. He thinks it's a heart problem. What else right?

I have no faith in medicine.

Apparently it's a good guess to say my heart is shutting down, thus making the rest of my shut down. I pass out, I hit the floor, a few seconds later heart comes back, begin the awakening process.

I have to go see a heart specialist soon, I'm still debating wether it will be worth it or not.

The other day I passed out on the stairs and cut my head open, I managed to fumble a lie to my family about getting into a fight, which, wouldn't exactly be terribly unusual behavior for the area I live in. I spent a good hour or two at the foot of the stairs bleeding from the head. Another missed day of work, that won't go down well at all.

I'm already in the firing line.

I've booked alot of time off this month, for the just-in-cases. I seem to be spending most days sleeping, and waking up in a groggy mess, unsure of what day, time or month it is. Post-it notes scatter my life at the moment, reminding me of anything and everything i feel the need to be reminded of.

Post-it notes scatter my room with her name, with messages of failed contact attempts, upset nights and painful realisations. My computer monitor, wallpapered with messages about work and friends. What friends, what work. Non-existant. They have to be, I don't want nor need them to know. I'll let them believe what I let them, I'm just having one of my well known reclusive stints. I don't need the sympathy or pity. It's not support if you can't remember it 24 hours later... My desk is strewn with post it notes with large crosses through them, presumably things I've done or no longer intend to do. A journal mainly helps me remember what I've been doing. I bought it recently, then spent two days trying to remember why I bought it.

It feels good in a way to know, that nobody else knows. I feel a little more secure. If I was to let just one of them know, they all would, then things would change. Keeping a secret is a lost art. Just like writing a letter. Keeping secrets and writing down your emotions mean nothing. Because on our craggy crumbled up ball of water and dirt, or Earth to some.. Words are weightless because they're free. Secrets mean nothing if they aren't your secrets. It's a sad fact, but it's the way things turn out.

I'd rather sit this through alone anyway..