Damn varmints

11-3-12     8:20pm

Earlier I felt anxious and paranoid. Left a voicemail for Dr. N. Now I feel hopeless and doomed. And a bit paranoid. And my head hurts. :( I was feeling somewhat okay when the pain set in after the anxiety turned to weakness and confusion until my mom told me we change the clocks tonight. All bets are off.

You know, they say it’s daylight savings but there’s no saving involved. It’s more like a credit scam. I need to move to a state where they don’t change the clocks. Nothing gets me more than knowing that tomorrow my days will be lost and I will be cold for the next six months. Okay, some things get me more but not tonight. Bastards.

(break to read Wikipedia)

When my day begins near sunset and ends in darkness…

Society tells me I’m lazy and crazy for getting up in the afternoon and staying up late. But I’m just time-shifting. I live a time-shifted life by about 8 hours and it works for me. Stop pulling time out from under me, ya hear? Damn varmints.

I don’t feel like writing anymore.

Is it Christmas yet?
When is Halloween?
I don’t understand.
Damn, varmints.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Waiting on a Rainbow

9-5-11     3ish-pm

What color are paranoia & psychotic symptoms?



I’m exhausted. I have been cleansed by twirling in the rain. It’s super hot now. I’m waiting for a rainbow to let me know I’m not possessed. But maybe I’m ON the rainbow and it’s invisible, holding me up. I’m so exhausted.

I put all my clothes in the wash to get rid of the evil and the toxins. I ate some pizza. I don’t wanna go to group tonight. I’m so tired. So tired.

Need to sleep but it’s hot inside and I’ll miss the rainbow I’m sitting on.
The air feels nice.
So nice.
So tired…

Words find their way back into the abyss.
I listen but all I hear is mist.
I shouldn’t have eaten.
It’s killing me.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011


9-5-11     1:10pm

I am watching the words flow through and around me. They echo, have a voice…

I still feel ants crawl on me.

The invisible acid rain takes over me.

The darkness is coming.


I thought the orange light was good but I read it again and it’s filled with darkness.

Why couldn’t I see?

Cuz you’re psychotic, Michelle.

That’s no excuse.
It’s infiltrated the system.
How can I know what is it and what’s me?

The ants could be its messengers.
Not good. NOT GOOD.

The cockroach spiders doing that beautiful ballet last night were just waiting ’til I was asleep to inject their venom in me. I’ve been compromised at a cellular level. My body is not mine anymore. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?

(deep breath)
Breathe, Michelle.

Run away. I should run away.
Can’t eat.
Don’t you know that it’s poisoned?
I am part of the universe.
I need no food.

My mom doesn’t believe I want no food. She laughs at me. How do I know she’s not one of THEM? This is the matrix. Of COURSE I want food but I can’t chance it. Then again, if I’ve already been compromised, does it matter? I should eat everything.

I lie on the concrete and stare at the sky. I will levitate to God. He will heal me. Unless he’s the orange light which is actually darkness. In that case I’m screwed. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?

I need to be struck by lightning.

I feel sleepy.

Just keep singing.
Row Row Row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily,
Life is but a dream.

The ants were in on it the whole time, spying on me.
And to think, I liked the ants.

Take me to the sky.
It’s the only way.
Don’t move.
They’re watching me.

Maybe I should walk ’til I pass out.
Or ride the train.
I love the train.
Magic on wheels.

I shouldn’t be alone.
Don’t want to be with Mom.
She doesn’t believe.
They’re watching me.

If this is the end I should spend all of my money and have a ball, go out with a bang.
BUT if this is the beginning of a very long battle that would be bad.

I don’t understand.
I don’t understand.

I know. If I do my laundry all the toxins will by washed away and I will be new.

Twirling in the rain has made me clean and new. My laundry is in the wash. I can eat now. Must fend off the intruders like fire. Waiting for a rainbow.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011