It was like 9.00pm. The members of staff on shift were the ones I hate, that weird creepy insufferable guy that always emotionally abuses me and makes me feel uncomfortable. Randomly the lights in my bedroom turned off on its own, so did the telly and the laptop. I got so angry. I raided the house for any switches but couldn't find any. I blamed it on him, somehow it's always his fault it only ever happens when he is on shift that the electricity (with the exception of the big lights) somehow randomly turn off on its own with no explanation. I popped two 25mg diphenhydramine pills, the cheapies from Asda, five minutes later felt a compulsion to have another two. Eventually I packed my bag with sheepy, books, chargers, ipod + headdies, snacks and the bicycle lock and angrily cycling around the village vaguely planning on running away while screaming racist profanities at people and asking strangers if they had firearms because I was so enraged, when I got home the microdose nytol knock-off started kicking in. My forehead felt weird, stomach pain, difficulty breathing, chest pain, drowsiness. First time I ever experimented with such a drug, out of all the drugs I've ever managed to access cannabis, blue lotus, nitrous oxide, and 2nd plateau DXM are my favourites although I'm not particularly fond of alcohol and especially DPH, tbh taking DPH recreationally is a form of masochism that necessitates a certain degree of bravery. 100mg is a relatively low recreational dose, according to what I read all over druggy websites and druggy subreddits you're supposed to take way more like at least 300mg, some people do 700mg (it's called the "700 club" or smth) and even though I took arguably next to nothing I still had a hypochondriac panic attack because I am a coward, I called 111 and the ambulance people came. I find it so embarrassing to be in an ambulance UNLESS I actually indisputably needed serious medical attention, like heart attack or stroke. They did my physical obs and the only thing that was dodgy was slightly low blood sugar (that happened when I did DXM, I think on the 150mg robo the paramedics tried to coerce me into drinking some vile sickly sweet sugar water when I would rather force myself to eat jammie dodgers and holland and barrett vegan liquourice even though that wasn't very cost-efficient when contrasted with the former). I was getting too tired to speak, too tired to move, too tired to concentrate, too tired to do anything at all and I couldn't decide if I should have a nap or go to the hospital for a blood test. I went in the ambulance anyway, thinking to myself it's actually a good thing that I'm out of the house all night long because I will be away from the people I hate. But I felt so uncomfortable in the ambulance, so uncomfortable I covered my head with a blanket. Normally if I got to hospital by ambulance I would walk out by myself normally, but at the time I was too lethargic to move at all so I just remained bed-bound and the paramedics manouvered the gurney table thing as I lied on it, I felt so guilty because it is so lazy but maybe it was justified because of the drugs. Can't really remember what happened exactly but rather very quickly I was relocated to some kind of room, found it creepy how it looked uncanny similar to the same room I went in after a panic attack at Boots trinity square that was NOT caused by any drug (literally all that happened was having unexplainable chest pain in the eastern european convenience store worrying that I was going to die from a malnutrition heart attack), anyway somehow the blood test never actually even happened none of the nurses really even ever told me about it, I guess for some unknown reason I just lied down staring into space doing nothing maybe I fell asleep for an hour or two, but idk how the agitation came back I wanted to vent into my notebook but realised the pen somehow vanished from my bag. I got frustrated. I asked the nurses for a pen but all they offered was a whiteboard marker when I would rather have a biro, despite making the request for a normal pen not a fat one a plethora of times it somehow never happened, as a result of not being able to satisfy my desire to trauma dump onto paper I started crying hysterically whinging about how I wanted to go outside for a brief cigarette but also didn't want to because of the risk I would miss out on the slot with this vague unspecified "psychiatric" person, this short fat bald guy member of staff dressed in black (security or something) yelled at me and kicked me out of the hospital for causing such a scene [not that relevant, but before the pen diary entry crying screaming hospital bouncer evicting me from the premises shenanigans commenced I could hear this intoxicated guy, prolly on a wheelchair, say the same weird phrase over and over again with a weird voice and I was intrigued. I love looking at r/tooktoomuch every so often but it is nowhere near as fascinating as the real-life enigmas you find in places like hospitals, police stations, or regarding homeless people on the streets]. It was approximately 2.00am that I got kicked out, that was when I started walking around Gateshead crying very loudly in so much distress eventually I called the coppers on 999 [no data on my device, would rather call my paternal auntie but even if my iphone did have data I couldn't call her at this time because she would be fast asleep, she's like a 9.00pm 11.00pm bedtime kinda person] had a cigarette in the bus stop next to a closed corner shop and rather quickly the coppers picked me up, they wanted to see if they could throw me back into the hospital because I whinged about how I was too scared to go home because of the psychological abuser but it wasn't allowed. When I got home I prepared a cup of valerian tea while doing nothing (probably finding something to wear, like fat fluffy socks and that dark green collared sweater jumper from a Consett charity shop, because I was cold, from the bookcase I got out a Kafka compilation, Dork Diaries, and that consciousness novel but couldn't focus because I was too desperate to research on the interweb the meaning of the lyrics of the song Lose Yourself by Eminem, unsurprisingly gave into my internet addiction by making this post and learning a few chunks of information about Eminem's childhood, once I've done [prolly in millennia lmfao] I will try either actually reading them books for once if not playing on my games or watching South Park).
Unlike a lot of people, especially people my own age, I act extremely calm and compliant when around authority figures [police, medical professionals, teachers, any kind of religious figure, the people that serve me at Heron foods or Lloyds bank or whatever] despite being otherwise extremely hostile and antagonistic towards the people I detect bad vibes from. At the same time I also feel rather uncomfortable, to be completely honest, whenever speaking to police officers, not in the same way I would feel uncomfortable speaking to chavs [e.g. walking on eggshells and worried the chavs will do or say something that implicitly implies they think I am very stupid indeed] but in some weird completely different hard-to-define way. The weekly overnight stay at the police station due to a vodka-induced anger tantrummy outburst in public feels very much like a religious pilgrimage, although not for too long, according to what people tell me actual real prison would make my extremely traumatic upbringing look like paradise in comparison.
_________________
18 y/o male
ASD, AN, CPTSD
Реальность меня бесит )))))
29 Aug 2024, 10:24 pm
