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I Hate my Life
Having a bad night. A very VERY bad night.
I have no fucking idea what's going on.
I keep thinking about death and how much better it must be then this endless string of trivialities called my life. I have to finish, or rather, start my incompletes. Never mind the fact that I am still emotionally unstable because the hospital did not give me the treatment I desperately need nor will I be in the position to GET that help for AT LEAST another year.
How am I supposed to analyze Toni Morrison's Beloved when I can't even get out of bed in the morning? When I'm eating too much just to numb the pain I have in me? When I'm not leaving the house because nothing on the outside interests me? How am I supposed to work within the time frame I have to graduate when my mind is so easily distracted and confused? I can't even clean my damn room because I don't know where to start. I just stand and look at the thing having no clue what to do about it. Ditto for my incompletes. They all just look way too big to even consider.
I want a therapist. A good, trustworthy therapist who would be willing to work with me and help me clean out my head. But everyone says "No therapist for you because you are going back to school in three weeks and it's not worth it."
Well what if I don't want to go back to school? The more and more depressed I get the more and more trivial college becomes in the grand scheme of things. I can't function. Right now I am out of order. If I were to return to school it would be a total waste of time and money not to mention that it would probably do more harm then good. If going back to school means I have to prolong treatment and just LIVE with the demons in my head for another couple of years then I'd rather drop out. I'd rather get the care I need NOW instead of waiting for things to get so bad that I really DO slit my wrists.
That seems to be the only way depressives can get anyone to listen to them, to make a fucking suicide attempt. I thought by entering the hospital I could avoid the need for that. Guess not. They still aren't listening.
I have no fucking idea what's going on.
I keep thinking about death and how much better it must be then this endless string of trivialities called my life. I have to finish, or rather, start my incompletes. Never mind the fact that I am still emotionally unstable because the hospital did not give me the treatment I desperately need nor will I be in the position to GET that help for AT LEAST another year.
How am I supposed to analyze Toni Morrison's Beloved when I can't even get out of bed in the morning? When I'm eating too much just to numb the pain I have in me? When I'm not leaving the house because nothing on the outside interests me? How am I supposed to work within the time frame I have to graduate when my mind is so easily distracted and confused? I can't even clean my damn room because I don't know where to start. I just stand and look at the thing having no clue what to do about it. Ditto for my incompletes. They all just look way too big to even consider.
I want a therapist. A good, trustworthy therapist who would be willing to work with me and help me clean out my head. But everyone says "No therapist for you because you are going back to school in three weeks and it's not worth it."
Well what if I don't want to go back to school? The more and more depressed I get the more and more trivial college becomes in the grand scheme of things. I can't function. Right now I am out of order. If I were to return to school it would be a total waste of time and money not to mention that it would probably do more harm then good. If going back to school means I have to prolong treatment and just LIVE with the demons in my head for another couple of years then I'd rather drop out. I'd rather get the care I need NOW instead of waiting for things to get so bad that I really DO slit my wrists.
That seems to be the only way depressives can get anyone to listen to them, to make a fucking suicide attempt. I thought by entering the hospital I could avoid the need for that. Guess not. They still aren't listening.