Here's a comical memoir I wrote a couple of years ago, thought I'd share:

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Have you ever seen John Candy walking around your room at 2am? Have you ever gone so many days without sleep everything looks wavy, and everything in the universe actually makes sense but time does not? Well. Im calling this one The Risperidone Diary.


Day 1:
Prescribed
It's safe to say, I wasn't right at the time and I needed something to help me out. I was prescribed 2mg twice daily. The doctor said it would be best with food, once in the mid-day and once at night. I may gain a little weight, which I can't believe I'm saying this, but that wouldn't have hurt. (I was a little too thin).
I went home and took one with food. It was mid-day.
I took one at night. Taken with food, but no appetite.

Morning 1:
I was visiting my father, staying in the guest bedroom, so I wasn't sleeping on the couch for a change. I had a Queen-sized bed to sleep in.
I was awoken by him and his wife getting ready for work. Clomping shoes carelessly stomping down the hallway.
I vaguely remember opening the door to see his wife standing at the coat closet. I think I remember saying (out loud?) "Hey I gotta pee and your shoes"
I used the privy and went back into the bedroom.
When I woke up at something o'clock. Something thirty, I didn't know, I woke up in the following position: Lying horizontal. Right (injured) leg on the bed. Left leg dangling off the bed. Left arm above my head. Right arm hovering over my face. A normal persons thoughts would be What the hell?, but mine was Wonder if dad left a sausage and biscuit?
At least I had my appetite again.
When I got up, actually on my feet I had to use a crutch. I was drunk. I was going to take a short trip to the kitchen. Just down the hall. And not even the whole hall, just half.
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttt! Does this hallway ever end? Daaaaaammmmnnn.
Wonder what Dan Aykroyd is up to? Seriously now, how big does this living room have to be?
My thoughts during my short trip to the kitchen The trip became a holy, spiritual journey. There was no left over sausage and biscuit.
Therefore, no gravy either.
"I gotta poop" I said, and noticed that it sounded more like "I hodda loop"

Night 2:
Took as prescribed, thinking the morning extreme drunk would wear off.

Morning 2:
I woke up. Left arm coming out my collar. Right arm half-way in the sleeve. Left leg tangled around sheets. Right leg propped up. Torso twisted to the right.
I had learned from the morning before to keep my ass in the bed for a while before getting up to try and walk. I held on to the morning pee as long as I could.
You there! Boy in the street! What day is it? This is what I felt like every morning before, and during my resperidone adventure. Have you ever seen the movie Groundhog day? Anyway, on risperidone time had become more surreal than before it was prescribed. I take it to get rid of the surrealist-like mindset, and it seemed to duplicate on this stuff.
I don't care how much of this stuff you take, or how long you take it, there's no denying one thing: This shit is strong.
As I finally got up, I was dizzy and had to sit back on the bed. Nauseated a little, but really had to poop. The bathroom was just across the hall. Two or three steps across the hall. But it seemed like a mile to the toilet just to find out: I only had to fart. One of the few times in life I was so angry I could curse my god, and my parents. Seriously now. I was pissed off.
imhunk I (said?) to myself oh lurd help mehifur listin followed shortly by im hugee Translation: "I'm drunk," "Oh lord help me if you're listening." And Im hungry. I wanted biscuits and gravy if there were gravy by some chance. But a sausage and biscuit would do. But neither were available, so I gave up on that craving. At least I thought.

Night 3:
Took as prescribed.

Morning 3:
I was dreaming. I was in a Game of Thrones-like world. It was simply someone telling me I had mud on my boot. In the dream, I was spitting at it, trying to get it off. I woke up spitting. Not drooling, not a mouth full of drool, but spitting. Spitting on myself.
Body was laying on it's right side. Back slightly curled to the fetal position. Head laying on right arm that was laying outward.
Now, this is the first morning I woke up and my first thought was proper for the situation. What the fuck? Was the only thought that fit. I wiped all spit from the sheets, cover, my arm, my cheek that I could find. (must have had a lot of mud on my boots).

Maybe I should cut these in half. Another rational thought for this situation.
Damn. I'm drunk.

Night 4:
Took 1mg at noon, took 1mg at night. Both times with food. (The prescribed dose cut in half).

Morning 4:
Drunk. Feel like I'd laid on the couch all day and drank MD/20 20 from a straw. Got stoned, drank bum wine, and watched Teletubbies or something. I don't know how to describe the feeling of waking up in the morning after risperidone.
This morning was the first that I had awoken in a position that someone with normal neurotransmitters would have awoken. I had just had some weird dream, which I don't remember.
The sluggish, dizzy, nauseated, dizzy feeling wasn't a good mix with my injury. I was starting to seriously worry that I would fall.
I'll take 1mg at night only.

Nights 5-?:
I had only shortly been taking 1mg at night with food. I figured a low dose wouldn't hurt. And I had lowered it quite a bit. From 2mg twice, to 1mg once.

Morning/Day/Nights 6-?:
I don't remember. I couldn't remember anything before the risperidone, I couldn't remember anything on it. How do I remember the details of the first few mornings? How could someone forget waking up spitting on themselves and bitching to their father's wife about her "clomping shoes" (or compennn soes? And an appetite after months. I enjoy a good sausage and biscuit. But I don't favor a small walk, which became a Mecca. There was never any.

Night Before "I need to get off this":
Took 1mg at bedtime with a little food.

Morning of "I need to get off this":
I woke up from crazy dreams. The ones you wake up from and are still exhausted. I have a sore in my neck. OKI can't turn my head.
I'm telling you, humans do one of two things: Wake up in the middle of the night. "Ouch! My [insert body part] hurts!," Roll over. Go back to sleep. Or, wake up with "I slept funny on my [insert body part]" The pain either goes away after being worked out through the day, or by the next morning.
Not this time. This stuff knocked me into a coma. I couldnt turn my head for days. I've been asked I don't know how many times "What's your pain level on a 1-10 scale?". Well, this would have been "UGGGGGHHHH". Followed by another "UGGH."
Followed by "I'm getting off this shit."

Next 4 Nights:
Didn't take it.
Surprisingly, I slept.

Next 4 Mornings:
I can't believe my neck still hurts.
Where's the trashcan? I've got to hock.
Basically, this drug would knock me out in to hyper-depth sleep. So deep that I hadnt even woken up, realized my neck hurt, and rolled over.
The first two mornings after not taking it, I still woke up heavy, drunk, like I hadn't slept at all. But the third morning I woke up barfing and thinking I was going to see blood come up any moment. Lord Jesus help me. Those four days I laid on the couch in one position where I didnt have agonizing pains. I couldn't wait for my next tab. (For pain, not for pleasure).
My neck. Oh god my neck.
I gotta pee what am I going to do?
Oh no, someone is talking and I feel rude when I don't look at them while they have something to say. Please stand over there. Please. Please.
Wonder what Dan Aykroyd is up to?
Today:

Morning whatever:
4-5ish days off risperidone
Ending the silliness.

Today my neck is fine. I've eaten nothing but white bread, slightly toasted, plain, along with a sprite or water since I stopped taking it. I have a headache and I'm still hocking.
Now, I tapered myself off, as always recommended by doctors.
I got myself to a low, reasonable dose, but I don't care who you ask, or what someone says about how long you've been on it, or how much: That. Shit. Is. Strong.
I actually once took it for months. Possibly a year or better. I remember the withdrawl from it being awful, but I couldnt remember the reason for getting off of it. I do now.
I'm still eating white bread, lightly toasted, plain along with a sprite or a water, but damn I'd love some biscuits and gravy