The medication he gets is stronger. So he doesn't punch and kick and get as upset as he once did. The delusions are still there. He talks animatedly about cars he has never owned and jobs he has never had. He should be a straight A student with how worried he is about school. To have him back to how he once was I will take those skin of the teeth B's he once gave me. Sometimes for a second he gives you a taste of who he is. The smart mouth Jason who notices things you wish he didn't. These moments make me happy because I know Jason is in there and he is coming out. I just need to keep on keeping on with the patience of a saint. I'm still the person who annoys him most in life. I would get upset about that in another time, another life, now I relish in that information. No more is he almost in a coma, almost a vegetable. He is awake enough to have an opinion. Even if for the moment it is against me, his biggest fan, I will take it and I will grin ear to ear about it.
He is eating. Not as much as he did pre-this insane life- but enough that it counts. Cereal, strawberries-soft food. Grandma's lemon cake-and pizza.
He is walking. Not his usual gait. A more subdued one but the steps are there. Unassisted. He is trying. He gets up everyday and doesn't stop and that's why I continue too.
When I look back at how much has happened, the nervous breakdown I so desperately deserve starts to rattle in its cage begging to be let out and I try to calm it and tell it to wait. The PTSD is there. I feel it. How I function through it? I don't know. Or maybe what I am feeling is something completely different. Crazy people don't know their crazy right? How the fuck am I scheduling my nervous breakdown??
I don't know. I don't know much of anything anymore.
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