Coming to a Breakdown

So the details aren't going to be given, but yeah, when Melissa Ethridge's song, "Having a Breakdown" comes on time and time and these meds are so totally fucking with everything, which isn't already fucked, I think that's called a breakdown. Thankfully, I'm trying to see the "glass half full" so "having a breakdown" really translates to "coming to a breakdown" --- it's a language thing.

Here's a mental image of how positive I am fighting to be. Normally, I am the fun one, but these meds are turning me into a demon. How fucked up that the cats can have Valium and Prozac and I've gotta have beta-blockers. And, no, I'm not going to steal from any of the cats because it's better than picking up furr-balls and turds (not to mention having to tell overnight guests to keep their shoes on because they don't know what "liquid" they could walk atop). That really makes for a bad morning.

Anyway, I trying to stay up. Here's a good mental representation of my meager attempt, and thankfully Daddy doesn't read my blog - 'cause you KNOW he'd have an opinion. I finally changed my desktop picture...

So from this:



Delacroix


TO:



MC Escher