Today I was the unreliable one. Today I didn't get back to people. Today I didn't save the day. Today I didn't do it because no-one else would. I said no. And I don't feel guilty about that in the slightest. Tomorrow I'll put my superhero cape on and swoop in and fix everyone's problems once more. But today I didn't.
Because in the last week, I've almost smashed the TV, thrown my phone across the room straight into the glass patio doors, punched the fridge, turned the stove on just to burn my hand on it, and drop kicked every plate in the house whilst wearing my boots to smash them. I've come dangerously close to all these things. The only way I've avoided it is by gripping onto the arms of my computer chair so firmly I couldn't get up because my entire body was too tensed; by walking out of the room so I couldn't do what was going through my mind right then; instead of throwing my phone across the room I yelled out fuck in a room full of people. Loud enough, but not screaming, but firmly and strongly enough every single one of them dropped what they were doing and stared at me in shock.
Right now I am far from mentally stable.
Right now I am not thinking normally
Right now I am occasionally proving a danger to myself and others by virtue of not thinking properly, or being too sleep deprived and making mistakes.
Right now I am really not okay.
I haven't been okay for a good few weeks. But the last week I've barely managed to maintain even a pretence of self control. This isn't a good sign.