Friday, January 29, 2010

Fluoxetine Journal 29.01.10

Toxicity and Health: I was very disappointed to smoke once again, as I felt next no thing and it made me realize the toxic effect of antidepressants. Often when I quit smoking even if only for a few days, the effect when picking the habit back was overwhelming, at times I felt drowsiness and almost blackout, in general it was something extremely pleasant. After one week of taking between 20 and 40 mg of fluoxetine, I was truly disappointed. The side effects are strange though, I do feel less nervous and less tense than often although at the same time much deeper in denial of my own situation but I couldn´t be too concerned, as long as I am able to pick myself up from the gutter even if only temporarily. During the afternoon after I had my second dose it was a total blank feeling, I just laid in bed unable to think too clearly as if on some powerful drug and then this unprecedented weariness set in, I was both slumbering and unable to sleep, without much peace of mind but neither aware of what I was feeling. This stuff is definitely stronger than I expected… I toyed with it as a teenager, and perhaps I didn´t really need, I don´t know now, and I am not sure really but I might be making a huge mistake. But I said it before, as long as I can get from bed on a daily basis for other reason than avoiding misery, that´s a gain.

Thoughts from previous days: Father and I will probably never get along, but we´re reckless enough to simply avoid each other at every personal level and get away with it, it´s not too difficult, you only need to do some small talk sometime. I´m not drawn to him at all, and I don´t think I can ever forgive him for his mistakes which consist not necessarily in being a lousy father –which often he is, what I´m talking about is his permanent weakness, his refusal to live, his mediocrity before himself and his lack of ambition. There´s so much he ignores about me, and whatever he doesn´t ignore, he refuses to acknowledge and to face; it is a safe and easy way to remain sane, to avoid life. Virginia Woolf: You can´t find in peace in life by avoiding life. He´s so cheap on me, he has always been that way… I think he´s been proud of me only when we´re not even remotely close and that´s something I´ve just come to accept as a fact. I don´t think we hate each other, but I´m not sure we can bear with one another; and I guess this is where antidepressants come handy, because I´m not planning to spend one dime I shouldn´t, lest I be so stupid to remain here and then I might just as well have already earn my own grave.

I was happy to have some news from Hugo, certainly now more than ever, I was certainly very much in need to have someone say a good word about me, at least to me personally. Job 7:15 I prefer strangling and death rather than this body of mine: I shall return to this verse too often, especially when I know I like my own body but not enough and will do even less as I get older and lonelier. This reminds me of thoughts from previous days: The expression lines of my face definitely reveal my age, and this has nothing to do with the way I express myself. Somehow my thoughts about beauty should coincide with those about sickness: Refusing treatment. Yet nothing could be further from the truth. Another problem with antidepressants: Lack of interest in sex. More about Hugo: He can be nothing but a virtual flirt, because he is too far away, too young and immature, but then there´s this sense of darkness about him which I really love –however not the way I loved the same traits in Santiago and him at least I had for three nights, my feeling for Santiago was so intense that it destroyed me. I must read Larochefoucauld; he seems to be in agreement with me on so many topics: In the course of life people are most loved because of their defects than they are for their virtues which in general serve only the purpose of creating envy. This is what I myself always thought. I think it´s time to bring some philosophy back into this journal but then when one types instead of handwriting there´s not enough time to think things through and I still need sometime more to recover. Marc wrote a letter to God last night with a fountain pen asking for my recovery, that was so fucking nice to know that I couldn´t help an hysterical laughter.

Jaime told me something about tomorrow and the hour 5.30 and I wonder what this really means. I´m still at loss with words about Pablo´s refusal to refer to my petition, and I prefer to acknowledge a refusal than to deal with the tension in the course of a relationship to somebody. I will certainly miss him because he´s one of the nicest and most helpful persons I´ve met in my life, and I hope I might be able to continue seeing him. Funny detail: As a by-product of some chance, I found out that he watches porn, but then why would I be surprised at all, maybe because I do too and besides that, I love to be surprised. I´m glad to be able to write over one page a day and that´s more than what I´ve done in the course of some long months.
Moments: My life has been clearly defined by moments of luck and unluck, as if the world could change with the blink of an eye (and it actually has): 5 minutes ruined my perfect relationship with María Clara that I didn´t care to fix and eventually my inability to act permitted that such unfix would destroy kind of half of my life and would leave me with almost no social acquaintances not to mention déclassé. Then I invited that Andrés guy into what was a perfect home, and then they stole this money, and eventually from one hassle to another, I ended up coming back to my father´s home with even less clothes than last time and slight chance of recovering them unless I am open enough to take a lawyer. With the blink of an eye I ended up sleeping with Ariel. I think I mostly don´t regret any of it, except the theft, and I think that could have as well been a fair punishment for hummmm, for some stuff. Other episodes: Rupture of my friendship with Leslie, outing German, etc. But each one of those moments led to other good moments, and I can´t even tell why, but it doesn´t take away the fact that there´s something absolutely sinful, irresponsible and careless about each of those moments; most of which are connected to alcohol. 12 sober days now. Not many more. An early morning tomorrow: I need to finish that damn article, which I don´t quite dislike it.

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