Here I go

I think things may be improving for me. Well, I'd like to think I'm improving things for myself. I've been slowly kicking my addictions, but that shit just always sticks. Parasites that can't be flushed. Constant fucking twitches that won't leave me still. But I'm still trying as hard as I can. My sister's graduation party was today, and I'm so proud of her. I was happy to feel like crying during her slideshow, and that makes me happy. I hope my writing will be progressively coherent as I improve on everything, because none of this makes much sense to me. Anyway, I want to start piecing again. My brother's a really great writer, and we apparently share similar tastes and style, which makes a lot of sense. I've always felt more like him than anyone in my family, though we've probably spent the least amount of time together. He's leaving tomorrow, and I hope we stay in touch. So back to the addiction thing; I'm seeing a psychiatrist this week, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I suppose that in that, I know I'm making the right decision in seeing one. Don't get me wrong; I'm not doing it for the therapy. I just think I need some meds that won't fuck me up for get me addicted or anything like that. I figure I have some sort of chemical imbalance in my brain, and that I've had it since, I'm estimating, I was about 12. That's pretty fucked, considering that's as far back as I can remember anything relevant. If I'm right, which I'm sure I am, my life will start to make a lot more sense with medication. A little sense would be more than I could ask for, really. Ultimately, I want to be able to give my family everything that they deserve. I want to learn things at school and retain that shit. I want to find love. Like, genuine, mind-blowing, hot-bellied LOVE. I want so bad to love someone. Right now, I just can't.