This entry isn't going to make a lick of sense. Just think of it as one of those freestyle slam poetry things. Then it will be "artsy", not "incoherent".
So late. Can't sleep. Ran out of the awesome coma pills. Need to go to Wal Mart tomorrow. If my prescription didn't get called in as promised I'm going to be kicking some ass.
The later it gets, the worse I start to feel. I get more upset. Anxiety gets worse. Should I just tough it out, or go back to see the shrink? I don't want to walk around in a drugged haze. If I'm ok 90% of the time, shouldn't I just learn to deal with the remaining 10%?
Angry. Fucking angry.
And just shut up. Stop complaining. I"m tired of hearing your complaining. I'm talking to you, yes, you who is always moody over the dumbest little things. You who can't just accept what life has to offer and appreciate what you have in front of you. Stop complaining and do what you need to do to get through this.
Shit. I could be talking to myself.
I talk to myself a lot.
How am I supposed to get through this depressive episode alone?
Friday, November 10, 2006
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