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I'm too lazy to really edit this, so it's going to be consistently unfocused, but whatever.

I'd best start writing now, because right now I don't know how much longer I have. Reality seems to be collapsing all around me, along with the internal coherence of my thoughts and feelings. For some reason I just need to to leave something, somewhere, in case I end. I find that it's as I write or type that my hands feel the strangest; often I see a certain analogy between them and those puppets which are operated by vague black-clad figures that loom over, right behind. These words seem like lies already, from the moment they're written the truth begins leaking out. The time over which I stare out in all directions is lonely and indeterminate, as I wait for flickers of meaning whilst becoming ever more sure that the source of it all is forever broken.

I went for a walk today. Just like none of the other walks I've taken in the last three months, I did not do so for the purpose of leisure. I had to go to the library to print off a form for my student finance application (I really should have gotten that signed and sent off today) On the way back I also exchanged 70 Australian dollars for £35.60 or something like that, and used a portion of it to buy some washing machine tablets, some pens, some envelopes, and a small notebook. The notebook I intend to use to write down essential tasks and important thoughts, although, and rather depressingly, I've bought a notebook at the start of the last two academic years, and neither was filled by more than a single page. It seems that I truly am destined to be an absolute mess of a human being, everything I touch turns to disorder and every passion I feel about the things I could do with my life is bounced straight back at me in the form of an indifference, and this was before the DP/DR even started.

I also phoned up the bank in order to request that they reset my PIN, which I have forgotten after 3 months of non-use. I'm not sure exactly how harsh I should be on myself for this, is it really normal to forget a number you've used continuously over the course of the last two years or so within such a comparatively short space of time. More importantly, is it normal for this to happen to me? I'm aware that many people report memory loss to be a symptom of DP/DR, but the doubts and fears of something more sinister yet affecting my brain is insatiable it seems.

I didn't complete all of my fairly to very important errands today, but I took a good decent chunk out of them, and so for now it can perhaps be said that my proverbial nostrils are above the water. Tomorrow I'll work on my mouth.
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