There are days when the world seems to end.
I'm watching Smart People right now, and it along with the three Vicodin(which was prescribed) and two beers I've had are putting me in a mood that is neither happy nor sad.
13 days I am turning 25. I don't think that anyone will ask me to hang out with them, really.
12 days I have court. I'm scarred that it will end up with me having to do time in Jail.
6 days and I have my second appointment of therapy.
9 days and I can return to full work ability.
7 days and I can remove the stitches in my hand.
Now lets get to that. I broke the dome over one of the lights in the hall the other night. It ended up slicing my hand open. And I was stubborn and didn't go into the hospital right away. I was afraid Philip had called the cops on me and that they would be waiting for me if I showed up. I went in the next day and they gave me 5 stitches. Due to that, I'm on light duty at work since I can't get my hand wet or dirty in any way. It's along the outside of my left hand, and the area above that is a little numb still and my finger goes in and out of numbness. It's not very fun. Anyway, it should leave a scar which will help me remember the failure that I have become.
I'm spiraling into a deep depression. I can feel it coming. And I doubt the guy I'm seeing can give me drugs to save me, and I doubt his skills can even topple my moods.
Philip and I got back together. And the split again. He wrote me a message Saturday while I was at the hospital. He wrote me saying that there are two things that should be clear, one that he loves me and wants nothing more than to be with me, and the other is that I'm clearly not ready to be in a relationship. He says he'll wait for me to be ready and I'm giving him the space that he needs to deal with his own things. I need to deal with my own things too. I'm half tempted to just call my father and ask him to meet me for dinner and just face that huge fear. I stop due to the fact that it will cause me to break down and attempt suicide if I was to take that on at this moment, with all the other shit that I've taken on myself this month.
I'm realizing that I hate the man I've become. I look in a mirror and see pain and torment and for once I don't think that I can solve it. I'm seeking help, but I fear that the help might not be enough. The night is darkest before the dawn. I just hope dawn comes soon.
There's so much more to this thought, but I really don't want to dive deeper into it, as this is not some attempt for pity or anything like that.
13 days I am turning 25. I don't think that anyone will ask me to hang out with them, really.
12 days I have court. I'm scarred that it will end up with me having to do time in Jail.
6 days and I have my second appointment of therapy.
9 days and I can return to full work ability.
7 days and I can remove the stitches in my hand.
Now lets get to that. I broke the dome over one of the lights in the hall the other night. It ended up slicing my hand open. And I was stubborn and didn't go into the hospital right away. I was afraid Philip had called the cops on me and that they would be waiting for me if I showed up. I went in the next day and they gave me 5 stitches. Due to that, I'm on light duty at work since I can't get my hand wet or dirty in any way. It's along the outside of my left hand, and the area above that is a little numb still and my finger goes in and out of numbness. It's not very fun. Anyway, it should leave a scar which will help me remember the failure that I have become.
I'm spiraling into a deep depression. I can feel it coming. And I doubt the guy I'm seeing can give me drugs to save me, and I doubt his skills can even topple my moods.
Philip and I got back together. And the split again. He wrote me a message Saturday while I was at the hospital. He wrote me saying that there are two things that should be clear, one that he loves me and wants nothing more than to be with me, and the other is that I'm clearly not ready to be in a relationship. He says he'll wait for me to be ready and I'm giving him the space that he needs to deal with his own things. I need to deal with my own things too. I'm half tempted to just call my father and ask him to meet me for dinner and just face that huge fear. I stop due to the fact that it will cause me to break down and attempt suicide if I was to take that on at this moment, with all the other shit that I've taken on myself this month.
I'm realizing that I hate the man I've become. I look in a mirror and see pain and torment and for once I don't think that I can solve it. I'm seeking help, but I fear that the help might not be enough. The night is darkest before the dawn. I just hope dawn comes soon.
There's so much more to this thought, but I really don't want to dive deeper into it, as this is not some attempt for pity or anything like that.