Have a psychiatrist appointment on Tuesday. I have every Tuesday for the past month. Im going to read the plea below to her. Fuck me.Please. Please make this stop. If it is possible, I need to know it. I spend my days laying on my couch entirely apathetic to the world around me.
Fucking awful. I wish I had the balls to fucking kill myself. I hate that I am so weak. I won’t, even now, I know I won’t. Of course not, always scared. I always quit before I start. Always worried, anxious and just god damn awful.
Seroquel does something. It is the only med we have tried that I think is doing anything. Why in the fuck am I at 300mg? Can we stop trying the littlest amount possible?
We can roll it back, but I need a day worth living. I fucking hate that I am going to wake up tomorrow. I’ll try to force myself to concentrate on something. I’ll take five or ten baths to pass time, attempt several naps, walk five to ten miles (fucking a lot) and hope to god I don’t wake up tomorrow.
Constantly I’ll wonder if my meds are working, why they aren’t working and why I feel no different. Are meds ever going to work, how the fuck do people pretends their lives hold value and purpose? Die. Fucking. Faggot.
My house is burning down and no one gives a damn. I get handed a watering can, told to try some intro watering can “group” classes and get a good luck.
I fight god damn hard. Always have. I know me. I fucking do. Please God. Try something new, try something major.
On a human level, please.
Please don’t give me some patronizing answer about time. Or threaten to drop me as a patient. Please.
Make this stop. I want to stop waking up disappointed that I must survive another day.