Interlude – F

I’m off to my Psych appointment in an hour. What do I say?

Why am I not better yet?

Four slimy pairs of PJs, disgusting salty sheets and nightmares full of lost love, being trapped in manic crowds and a phone I can’t work to get someone to come rescue me. I feel so lost and alone this morning. I want to crawl back into bed and let the world forget me.

I’ve had enough. I’ve tried so hard. I’ve done what I’m supposed to have done and nothing has changed. I try to tell myself I have better coping mechanisms now but the PricklyBurn is stronger than ever and my nerve endings have some sort of toxin filtering through them.

I want out.

I can’t cope with anything. Normal everyday things like washing up are tipping me into the psychiatric abyss.

What’s the point in going to my appointments? Nothing has changed so far. I’m not getting any better. I’ve failed the exam. I don’t care either. I studied and went to class and did the work and I’ve still got an F. An F for fuck off.

Please just someone switch off the lights so I can sleep and not wake up.

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