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Today, the meds hit me hard. I could barely stand up most of the day, and I've felt totally sapped since last night. The evil hours after midnight plagued me all this week; I couldn't stand to write here. Every day is pain. Every day is hurt. Somehow, I manage to put on a good act for family and friends, but I can't take much more of this. The days drag on, and I can't tell what's real and what's imagined. My memories get all mixed up almost as I have them. Every day, the shuffle is different. Take this to heart: when I go, when I make my promise, you who read will be the first to know, and you won't be surprised.