Body Head Indent drugdrugdrugdrug

Drug switch not going so smoothly. I've felt like nervous panic for days, but in a very obviously chemical way. I'm having a very hard time getting anything done, including writing this. I don't know why. The impulse to write is there, but the impulses to do all sorts of stuff are running around. It's translating any of those impulses into actions that feel like I'm running a million volts through a big giant rock or a big clay blob. I also really want to keep backspacing everything I write. And for the past hour everything has smelled/tasted a little like blood/Thursday. I don't even know what that means, but that's what my brain keeps identifying the smell and taste as: a combination of blood and Thursday.

This backspacing thing is annoying the hell out of me.

Dog should go out again and I should take him, but that's harder than it should be. I don't like the way the "shoulds" ended up placed in that sentence but I'm leaving them so as to avoid the backspace and refiguring it all out.

I think I'm so backspacey because I usually think in full sentences so the whole thing is there before I write it but now I'm in fragments so I have to keep fixing each piece of sentence as I go. Makes it much harder to write, but I wanted to make sure I captured this lovely mindset for posterity (emphasis on my posterior).

When I woke up this morning I thought I was so nuts because I was hungry, so I made scrambled eggs and cheese and stuck them in the small corn tortillas I have. I ate one and a half and then almost puked my guts out and got hot and cold and wanted to punch the dog when he tried to touch me.

My stomach has been doing nasty things ever since. I'm sticking to applesauce.

And I think this is somehow progress in my Effexor withdrawal, since it's been 48 hours since I've had any and I only took 75 mg the last time and 75 mg 24 hours before that, and this doesn't really feel like my Effexor withdrawl. This is new. Chemical and bad, but new, so I'm much less inclined to pop more Effexor.

Soundtrack in my head through most of Happy Fucked Up Fun Time: "Let Me Entertain You" and "Little Lamb" from Gypsy (which I saw for the first time the other day) and Weezer's "Buddy Holly."

How am I going to get this dog out again? Why isn't he toilet trained? I'm so never getting any work done ever and we will both end up wasting away in mud puddles for lack of self-sufficiency.