Welcome me, goddammit

So this is a blog, eh? Just kidding, I've had blogs before. Many blogs. Blogs to pimp my writing. Much like this blog. Blog blog blog. The word is starting to lose meaning 'cause I wrote it too much.

So, I'm Amelia. I'm 20. I work at a pet supply store and I go to school for Fiction Writing. I live in Chicago in Rogers Park.

SO. Now that the introductions are over, we can get on to the good stuff. Me writing about nothing in particular.

Today wasn't as bad on the anxiety scale as yesterday was. Yesterday was hell. Or was it two days ago? Either way, this week and last week have sucked. Other than that, life is grand. Work is a good distraction, so I'm thankful for that. If I didn't work almost every day, I would have too much time to myself to think. I might end up laying in bed, depressed and listless.

But really, it isn't that bad. My medications seem to be working. I haven't had an extreme low in months, and I haven't hurt myself since July. I will grin and bear everything and anything that happens to me. I am strong enough to recover from anything now. And because I know that I can recover, I don't take it too hard. If you don't take your problems too seriously you can maintain a distance from them and not have to worry so much. If I don't realize that what is happening to me is real, I'll be just fine. It's when that revelation comes that things get messy. But I'm not a fragile little girl anymore who cries over her own lack of confidence and self-esteem.

Sometimes I feel estranged from my soul or my consciousness, as if I could just put all my energy into a ball of light and transfer it to someone else. Sometimes I imagine that if I concentrate hard enough, I can transfer my consciousness into a ghost-like form of myself that can travel wherever I want and see whatever I want. Weird, huh? But I can feel it as a sort of warmth above my head sometimes, quivering and waiting to wander.

I wish I could drop everything and travel around the world. I wish I could leave tonight and move to Canada. In the woods as a hermit, of course. I would collect edible plants and kill a moose every so often. Or I could live off of my millions in the bank, moving from hotel to hotel, never staying long enough for anyone to know my name.

Or I could go for a nice three-month-long sleep.