delusion

i am feeling like i am going to pass out. i guess i should eat before i take medication. but i think this is a good way to write, delusional. i wasn't planning on writing today. i feel dizzy and maybe like it'll make me honest with myself. last night was a beautiful night. i was horribly happy with what i felt going on inside of me, how unafraid i was for once, and able to assert my position without fearing complete isolation. i realized how odd i think it is to cry when you are happy. it's an act i thought was confused and muddles, even i thought i had done it once. my mother and i had stopped the literal exhange of blows with the words we didn't even know how to pronounce, let alone speak and mean and feel. but she seemed to pull a promise from the words to say she was alone like me and didn't want to be anymore. even then the words were so jumbled together as to fit both her true meaning for the words and the drunken state she was in whe she spoke them. right then i thought i'd cry becaue i was happy that she found a voice. i found the voice to tell her i knew she was true, but now that i think about it i was as drunk, but on some other liquor that made me cry a lot more than i usually do with her around. i always remember that memory when people talk about crying of joy. i was reminded of that last night and then subsequently realized i didn't even know how to find the words i had purported to live and breathe and weep. joy was the act of some kind of antagonized paranoia. joy didn't have it's own voice outside of survival and adaptation. i find it amazing how muddled that J-O-Y was with all the other letters and words that had no place there. who knows, maybe right now i am still looking in a dictionary for things to define themselves through example instead of through action. i wonder if she knew somewhere that my words were misused and abused. but we were both searching and now she's searching alone and i am searching, spiraling away from ground zero. i think i found a voice, but i talk about it at a time when the words on the page are spinning around as well, so maybe i have yet to define myself and the words i purport to feel...