No longer as truthful as should be deserved, some names, places and events deliberately vague to protect identities that aren't mine

Sunday, 5 October 2014

Too hot

My fingers itch.

Today should not be happening.  It shouldn't exist.  I shouldn't exist today.  My right hand hurts from punching the wall.

My fingers itch.

Saved on my desktop is a note from 3 months back.  Things have not improved from this state.  Most of them have in fact got markedly worse.  Is it any wonder I'm falling apart?

1 housemate who's suicidal and recently told us all he's made a will, 1 who either can't leave the house from anxiety or disappears for 3 days at a time, 1 who is considering restarting steroids again whilst he's cycling back onto his SSRIs, 1 housemate with cancer, 1 friend who's so depressed his husband and I had to consider between us whether we needed to stage some kind of mental-health intervention, 1 friend who is almost certainly about to get arrested for drug dealing, 2 who I can't hang out with anymore because they're so wired 24/7, you're breaking down worse than ever, Johnny just had another surgery which automatically makes me worry like hell, 2 of my friends just broke up from a 6 year relationship and I'm quitting my job because my own mental health has divebombed so badly in the last 8 months.   

Quitting that job was seemingly one of those things that made things worse.  In trying to save myself, I destroyed one of the few good things I had going.

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