It’s a block. A huge block over me.

He was in front of me, she was next to me, and they were all standing, standing next to each other. A room full of people, and he talks, everyone listens. And I was looking at him, and it wasn’t even the usual “listening and not really listening” but rather an actual transcendent state I cannot describe! You cannot understand me! Oh, how I wish you could understand! The sheer multifaceted states that my mind encapsulates within a moment! And even now, I’m sidetracking. What was even my thing? Oh yeah—so he talks, and I look at him, and today it reached such a state that everyone around him started to disappear, and he started to disappear, like my peripheral vision slowly fading and fading, yet it WASN'T FADING! THEY WERE all THERE! And I was there! But I felt my existence in that gym, my feet on the ground, my eyes in my head, and my skull in my cap. My feet, my heels that stood me up, boy, I felt the very blood rushing through my veins and the cells within my body and the little things inside the cells and the little things inside those little things inside the cells—what things, you say? There are no things inside the cells inside the little things inside the cells inside that. Not yet discovered there isn’t! But you know it’s there; some form of being, existence, dimension is, and I felt it! I felt it, I swear to God, I felt my heels pushing on the ground and the ground swallowing it, yet trying to at the same time push me out—I felt my heels supporting my position in the gym, the gym that was in the room which was in the school in a city in this part of the world. I felt my feet pushing down, down to somewhere on the Indian Ocean, specifically -40.698470, 106.048558 (40° 41' 54.5" S, 106° 2' 54.8" E) according to that antipode map... I felt it all pushing down on me and pulling me, tearing me and crushing me. Giving me complexity of thought and tearing away any possibility of cognition.

Oh, my relationship with you, my lover, torturer—oh, my ADHD. Who are you? Are you me? Am I you? Do you make me me, or would I be better off without you? Lately, it seems like I would give anything to not have you. But were I to pluck you out and throw you away—would I even be me then? The little things, you know what they are—even using such a common word as ‘things’ seems an insult, a sting, like stamping such a common word to them will give them power. You know, you know them—the monsters that emerge as the phase gets out of control, they have no limit, they divide and divide and divide and continue dividing even though every literal logical mechanism screams at them to stop—to stop and stop, please stop, please STOP STOP STOP DO NOT STOP DIVIDING STOP. STOP.
THEY
DON’T
LISTEN.
I NEED you apoptosis. I need you.
She needed you.

Yet somewhere, in the back of our minds—hers and mine, mine, someone calls my name.
It’s become you, she says.
They have infiltrated every part of my being—physically, mentally, muscelelly, jellily, cellily, presencesely, everyleyly.

So ask me again, what would happen if I were to pluck it right out of my system? It seems that I would diminish. But how is diminishment worse off than destruction? Because that’s what you’re doing—that’s what you do, you destroy me, you hurt me, you tear me limb from limb and make me cry, make me cry, make me cry.
I read instructions in class today, I read them, and I couldn’t.
You think the complexity is nice—no, it’s not. It reached such a high point today that they all jumbled together, and I lost my mind. How do mad people, those really mad ones, become mad? How can someone be born that way? No choice have they? Nope, they made the choice because they reached such a chaotic state that they chose madness over having to balance them. It seems I’m getting closer to that state, and unless I do something about it—unless I do something about it—unless I do something about it soon, I will either dig deeper into the hole I’ve been rigging, in which escape will be near impossible or at least not without scars, or I will choose to empty it all. You think it’s easy—you say, I know it’s difficult, but you gotta face it; there’s no other way. Oh, how I wish you knew the sheer miles of differences our realities of difficult are. I don’t want to say this, but lately, it feels like that difficulty you describe as the worst is the one I face daily lately. You cannot know my most difficult state. I hope I never do.

She was telling me something, and I couldn’t hear her, I forgot her name, and forgot my birthday. I think I forget I exist sometimes.
I was just trying to read the instructions.

You think feeling everything like that is a gift? I stand straight, yet I don’t. I am turning in 369 from ground to forward down. Have they made a movie scene for this? To display a cool protagonist maybe Inception perhaps? Perhaps. But I tell you something—No, no, it’s not. It’s not cool, and today it made me feel stupid. Like I was going to collapse under the weight of all those emotions and feelings and knowledge of fact and theory.
As my complexity grows, the intensity grows, and I cannot control it anymore, it seems that the intensity controls me.

ADHD really pushes me to the limit.

I’m starting to realize just how much my ADHD can affect me.

I’m starting to realize the extent of the state
that my ADHD has the ability to take me.

School was especially difficult today, I'm starting to discover new avenues of intense blockage my ADHD can pose, and I'm really struggling.