My thoughts feel like a freakin NASCAR bumper car mosh pit right now. It's so HARD. These urges and trying to maintain control and wondering why I can't run in my neighbor's sprinklers naked again. There are too many electrons in my orbitals. Yet just hours ago I was laying in bed thinking about s. I bit myself today out of aggravation and now there's a nice mark on my arm and my hand. But somehow this feels normal, like back to the way things were and the way they should be. I'm writing a boatload of poems to compensate. I'm sure they're all s**t bbut there's gotta be some salvageable stuff in there. Call back day tomorrow, hoping for a same day appointment but trying not to get my hopes up at the same time. I still don't know what words to spit through the phone into her ear though. I'll have either too many or not enough words, and any words will be the wrong ones. That's how I always feel at therapy and med provider appointments.