took me 3 days to realise that the perceived happiness i got from existing in sg was actually less of actual bliss but a lapse in depression. that maybe, just maybe (no doubt) I am depressed because I am just... depressed not actually because of the country, which led to the parallel of eliza once pointing it out to me that maybe I hated my fats especially arms not because I hated them for making me this way but rather, I hated them because I had to find a tangible thing to direct my senseless self hate towards. Why? God knows. Maybe that's fate
I am also slightly in awe in how I manage to yank my stoned ass to NTU in this shitty weather, and now i finally get to understand the intense role my mom plays in my survival. As background knowledge I had 50mg of lemborexant, 12mg of eszopiclone and 4mg of lorazepam yesterday in one go, how am I not dead. Woke up with partial amnesia, like my brain still knew how to autopilot without being in full control, all the impulsive actions and all. And now good ol chatgpt is telling me I survived because my parents kept interrupting the sedation by talking to me (and yanking me up for dinner) and because I didnt manage to get my hands on some vodka (alcohol) to amplify the effects. I remember my friend telling me I cant die by a sleeping meds overdose, but at that point I remembered thinking I possible could if I took it together with other sedatives and alcohol to make things worse till the sedation got amplified, god loves me aight.
aND the fact I actually texted the dude and couldnt remember whether his reply was part of my dream or actually was funny nonetheless, like my own inhibitions were all turned off and I gave no shit anymore of what I was doing, I love everyone but I am so fucking tired at this point. Just judge my eating disorder, just let it be, I'll still buy my 九鲜 for you and have you all in my hearts but just catch me a fucking break and let me never wake up again, period.