An Unreliable Narrator

In high school, my literature class was assigned to read One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

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High-Functioning

Psychosis is believing my worst thoughts, my own interior monologue taking on a life of its own, physical sensations that don’t line up with reality, fears bigger than the moon, and logic that is completely inexplicable to anyone else.

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Deer in the Headlights

Quitting smoking is hard. It says so right in the nicotine replacement therapy packages I kept buying at CVS for two years straight so I wouldn’t have to go without my nic fix at work. I’ve switched to a vape, and tonight I ran out of my 3mg e-liquid, so I headed to the vape store to replace it with a 0mg liquid. I’ll hang onto the placebo effect for as long as I can.

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BRB Descending into Madness

When I started this blog, I was in residential treatment getting help for my eating disorder for the second time. I wanted a way to mass-blast my close friends and family back home with updates on how I was doing and what I was learning in treatment. I wrapped every essay up in a little bow and proclaimed that I was growing stronger every day, as if recovery from an eating disorder (or any mental illness) is a linear path through a Zen garden which one walks down while therapists chuck coping skills like rose petals at your feet.

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