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I don't get it. I feel so normal right now. I feel hyper-normal, as if everything that keeps me from loving life was purged from my consciousness last night.

Rereading my last entry, it seems that I wasn't able to describe the experience as well as I thought I would. Have you ever had a bad acid trip? Or a flashback to a bad trip? Now you're starting to get a taste for what it would feel like. It's as if I decided to fight against all of the pressures of the world, all at once, and then decided to give up.

It's not a conscious decision. It's just something chemical that happens from time to time. I was wrong when I described it as a physical shift in my brain, that would be a psychosis, which I do not have. I don't understand this. If it wansn't for the fact that I had documented it, I wouldn't even be thinking about it right now. I would have told myself that i just got tired and decided not to go out, and the episode would pass from my memory until a psychiatrist asked me how many I've had recently. Then, it would only be a number.

They seem to have a purpose, because now I feel so refreshed.

I'm calm.

I could do anything.

Last night was a purging of all my self-doubts. I seem to let them build up until a moment like that is necessary. The medication (Lorazepam) seems to help me release these anxieties easier, making these episodes less severe.

I wish I had a bigger prescription, because not only does it help me get through the rough days, I also love the state it brings me to. (And, because my pill-popping friends will pay good money for them.) I take a pill when I'm a little bit too anxious, and I can feel it wash over my brain, shutting off those irrelevant thoughts that are blocking out the important ones. I see the world through a soft-focused lense. I see a well-composed picture, void of clutter.

When I have a "panic attack" or "episode" (I've only recently begun treatment for this, and I really don't know what it is that my mind does) the world is too busy. All the pieces overlap one another, spilling out of the frame. I cannot keep track of all the details, they're overwhelming. I cannot make sense of them. I want to turn myself off.

But I go on, through the ordeal, until I emerge out the other side as if coming out of a cocoon.

When I look back, I don't recognize myself as I just was. Why would I feel so overwhelmed by such small details? It doesn't make sense. something's not adding up.

All I can do is go on.