OK, so I'm only coming here once a day and only reading Clubhouse threads. Then I read about goings-on "out there" and got curious... but I dared not go. So, if someone would be so kind as to give me a summary of today's top headlines/posts/whatevers, I'd be indebted to you.
Possibly indebted enough to post snippets of my writing for you to chew over and let me know if it's working for you.
So I'll start with a bit from my latest typing session:
Hey, don't bug Charlie right now. His head's not in a good place.
He finally got over the shock and denial of losing Joe and Cheri. Now he's crying his eyes out. He feels the deep, insatiable hunger of grief and the chill winds of death blow right through his bones. It's good Mercedes showed up, because Anja didn't want to leave Charlie by himself. They take turns watching him, never letting him out of their sight.
It's awkward when he goes to the bathroom, but they can't relax their watch for an instant.
Charlie wants to join Cheri and doesn't know exactly how, but is convinced it involves his own death. He's obsessed with mortality right now.
He's not listening to reason, he's not listening to his bliss, he's not listening even to the voices in his head. He's totally withdrawn and barely registers a connection to either Mercedes or Anja.
Speaking of withdrawing, he's also quitting everything cold turkey. Maybe he'll go back to the stuff later on, but for now he's not having it. This makes Charlie not a nice person.
Anja's holding him close right now. "Just try another GOH. It'll help you so much."
"No! I'm cleaning up! I don't want to die a junkie!"
"It's not the same as all that. It'll help you."
"It's junk! It's garbage! What good came of it?"
"Heaven."
"That's a hallucination. I can't explain it, Anja, but it's all a hallucination. It's not real."
"Charlie, it is real and people there are waiting for you to return. They need you. I need you."
"You're sick, too. That's the drugs in you talking."
"No it's not. It's the caring person in me talking. Do what I tell you, Charlie. Drop a GOH to steady yourself. At the least, it'll relax you so you can sleep."
"It's a crutch. No."
And so it goes. You can see Charlie's depressed as chortu. He's mentally spiraling into a deep pit and there's not a lot anyone can do. Charlie doesn't understand how depression works. He needs something to pull him up, but he won't have it. He's self-destructing a little more each day.
Possibly indebted enough to post snippets of my writing for you to chew over and let me know if it's working for you.
So I'll start with a bit from my latest typing session:
Hey, don't bug Charlie right now. His head's not in a good place.
He finally got over the shock and denial of losing Joe and Cheri. Now he's crying his eyes out. He feels the deep, insatiable hunger of grief and the chill winds of death blow right through his bones. It's good Mercedes showed up, because Anja didn't want to leave Charlie by himself. They take turns watching him, never letting him out of their sight.
It's awkward when he goes to the bathroom, but they can't relax their watch for an instant.
Charlie wants to join Cheri and doesn't know exactly how, but is convinced it involves his own death. He's obsessed with mortality right now.
He's not listening to reason, he's not listening to his bliss, he's not listening even to the voices in his head. He's totally withdrawn and barely registers a connection to either Mercedes or Anja.
Speaking of withdrawing, he's also quitting everything cold turkey. Maybe he'll go back to the stuff later on, but for now he's not having it. This makes Charlie not a nice person.
Anja's holding him close right now. "Just try another GOH. It'll help you so much."
"No! I'm cleaning up! I don't want to die a junkie!"
"It's not the same as all that. It'll help you."
"It's junk! It's garbage! What good came of it?"
"Heaven."
"That's a hallucination. I can't explain it, Anja, but it's all a hallucination. It's not real."
"Charlie, it is real and people there are waiting for you to return. They need you. I need you."
"You're sick, too. That's the drugs in you talking."
"No it's not. It's the caring person in me talking. Do what I tell you, Charlie. Drop a GOH to steady yourself. At the least, it'll relax you so you can sleep."
"It's a crutch. No."
And so it goes. You can see Charlie's depressed as chortu. He's mentally spiraling into a deep pit and there's not a lot anyone can do. Charlie doesn't understand how depression works. He needs something to pull him up, but he won't have it. He's self-destructing a little more each day.
