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If I continue down this road, I'll have to face the fact that this machine is a better writer than I am a drawer. That's gonna hurt. You know, I can already feel the loss of that careening just-barely-holding-onto-the-road sensation that came with med deprivation. I kinda feel like Cinderella back scrubbing floors. Maybe I shouldn't be writing about my meds at all. I know there are some people who think that. But the whole thing about this blog is I gush out all this outrageous stuff with a smug adolescent sense of humor, so people think it's just a free-form nutty persona I'm weaving out of thin air, but in fact it's all true, and I get the release of confessing all without all of the risk. Now if I were the kind of person who thought about consequences and shit, I would realize that I'm undermining the whole business by writing this here now. But being as how I'm not that kind of person, I can just plow on blindly, and sometimes I get bit in the butt and sometimes I don't. It makes for an interesting life, and what more can one ( on, en fran├žais ) ask for?