So.

Doctor Robert Winston says I'm have very high neurotic traits. And very low extrovert traits.

This is not a surprise.

Stuff's getting a bit too much for me. Haven't been taking my meds (cos haven't got enough) but can't be bothered to go and get more. Having bank issues, but seems horrifically hard to go to the bank tomorrow to shout.

Just... lethargic. Unwilling to do anything of use.

Can't even really be bothered to finish this in a meaningful way.

Oh, fuck.

I'm so ugly. So fat. So disgusting.

I want to die.

I know it's cos I'm drunk, particularly. But I know I hate myself anyway. And if only I had enough drugs, or the equipment (and guts) required to hang myself.

I'm expecting to be dead by thirty.

You're so irritable at the moment. Stupid things that really shouldn't bother you make you want to shout. Want to fight. Want to weep ( Read more... )

I wasn't going to do this ( Read more... )

...Lindsey doesn't take up much room...

...now you're thin and separated, do you feel different...?

Why, yes. When you're on your own here, when you've drunk too much (and there is nothing else to do in the evenings on a business trip but drink after all) then yes, it is easy. Easy to purge, easy to wish one had blades. It's easy. And there is a  ( Read more... )

A few sound bites from my business trip to India...

...hold on a moment, I want to see Lindsey eat something...

...I don't think you realise how thin you are...

...what happened to your wrists?...

It's a work trip. Don't try to get inside my head.

They advise you here that you don't even brush your teeth with the tap water. They say nothing of one's ( Read more... )

I am ridiculous.

How could I have forgotten that my husband's best friend (and the fucking best man at our wedding) works at my new work?

Well, somehow I did. And I saw him in the canteen today (as I picked at half a salad) and nearly threw up all over the table.

And then he IMd me when I got back to my desk.

I'm sorry he says

I was in such a difficult ( Read more... )

The writing's on the wall now, really. It's been confirmed - the other woman's grandmother mentioned it this week.

You know he did it. You know he was laughing at you with the begging and the suggestions of marriage counselling and the pleading for him to tell you what you did so wrong.

We know this now. He was fucking someone else, and laughing at ( Read more... )

I'm a bit lonely.

I'm in Liverpool at the moment in a hotel. I'm training for my new job.

Why did I think I could do this?