My status ?

Still on Depakote, today the dose was doubled.

I started crying again but not as often as before.

Have to keep my mind busy with trivial shit so I don’t think.

When I do think… my thoughts drown my mind and I can’t seem to find escape from them.

Thoughts of suicide again, I’m not talking to anyone about it.

I just say I’m sad and that I’m tired of being sad.

That laughing seems so fucking hard and impossible in my face.

I try to smile, be with my family… I just want to fucking cry.

I feel I’m practically not existing.

So… why bother ?

I started to… hang out (??) with a guy I went out (??) with a couple of years ago.

I am reminded once more how much of a bitch I am.

How fucking horrible I am… a friend was with us and she fucking giggles and fucking has self esteem and knows how to be a human ? … how the fuck am I supposed to keep trying ?

I can’t seem to express any positive feelings to him (or anyone) … I am afraid of getting hurt.

Not only would I get hurt… but possibly go backwards of my “progress” with this fucking condition.

So, I ask myself.

If I know I am deep in depression mode… should I try going out with someone ? or would that fuck me up even more ?

Or… Being depressed and going out with someone is just a bad idea… because no one will like a crying little bitch like me ?

Also, If I start seeing someone… When do I have to tell them about my condition ? About my past ? About my hospitalizations… and attempts.

Me: Confused as fuck.


It’s been a while.

Time is like a blur. I don’t notice when days pass.

I am taking a higher dose of Depakote.

Mostly I can control my feelings… but if I can get my mind busy thinking on something.

I’ve been pretty fucking emotional.

If I get angry… I get fucking pissed off.

If I get sad… I sob uncontrollably.

If I get happy… well, it’s usually because i’m high.

I think I need a higher dose.

But, I am afraid what it will do to my enthusiasm. (I little to none.)

I lay in bed all day.

Or I do shit. I just don’t care about anything.

I don’t even care about suicide.

Which is good, I guess.

But I wish I cared about something.

I had my appointment today with the psychologist.

We talked about…well, me being a sarcastic cunt.

She actually noticed just today, that maybe I don’t do it on purpose, that I don’t notice.


So… Everyone gets told “You have to be yourself !”. I get told that I have to read books about social interactions and not be how I am… because I’m a hostile bitch.

Or raging bitch as I once was called by an ex.

She also said that she thinks the diagnosis of my past psychiatrist about a year ago of Schizoid personality disorder applies to me.

Supposedly I’ll be studying online on University of Phoenix.

Fuck… the United States’ colleges are pricey as fuck.

I’ll probably have loans on top of loans.

In conclusion.

Depakote has controlled my depression.

It has made me, at least, stable.

I am still sad as fuck.

I still find no reason for all this shit.

But I just… don’t think about it.







I travel back…

Over the time… I’ve made acquaintances on my hospitalizations.

We always say we’ll contact each other, never will.

Must be the fact that everyone exits and in a while receive the shock of reality.

Not that fucked up dazed and confused bubble in which they had us.

I see a photo of a guy I met in my last hospitalization.

He read while I read, he studies psychology, he’s a geek.

I fucking liked him since I saw him.

Anyways… I’m fucking nuts, that’s why I’m there.

So I try to hide my crazy self from him as much as I can.

I don’t know how much he saw.

He left about 5 days before me.

I, being fucking nuts, remember imagining him holding me in bed and taking turns in holding each other.

Fuck that shit.

I’m a psycho, ignore that.

I left the hospital… desperate about contacting him.

We exchanged a few words.

Now every time I see him on Facebook I just think about the time we met, when I still had expectations of the hospitalization to work.

“Maybe this will be the time they fix me.”

And I just cry.

Live Through This – a Project (Link)

Live Through This  <—-

I found this webpage… I don’t remember how.

It has stories of survivors of suicide attempts.

They tell their story about how the became suicidal and what happened after the suicide attempt.

This was great. I saw people that had tried to commit suicide and how the felt afterwards.

The obstacles, the loneliness, the depression, having to hide mental illness.

It made me think that all of this… can be in my past.

Maybe there is a way to… not overcome this… but put it behind and not listening to these thoughts.


Trying ?

I keep trying.

I go out.

I fucking socialize… in some way.

But really… after all these years of trying to fit in… in any circle, and not being able to.

I fucking… just give up.

Went to the selling waters with flowers and flavor and I don’t know what the fuck.

Didn’t even bother to make a conversation with anyone.

I know a couple of them from before…

But I just know it will be awkward, that I just save us both the trouble.

This is what I see in my head.

What other people see is someone that must be either very stoned or have taken too much shrooms in her life.

I want to meet new people, I want friends.

I’m just fucking tired of trying so hard and it never works.

So… mostly I stared at one random spot for a couple of minutes and turned to another.

After a while I went drinking… what else can one do ?

The day felt as depressing and shit as before.


This living stuff is so fucking fun.


Can’t wait for tomorrow… (no sarcasm whatsoever.)


Woah, the interface changed.
Oh, no… Changes !

I’ve been going out…
To the bank and to get food.
I had no option.
But at least I’m exiting the room.
If it were as easy as having a serious face/bitch face to get my face to smile.
I wonder how many things would change.
I woke up feeling… how can I explain it… not caring what the fuck happened.
Didn’t even feel like moving or doing anything.
I feel something between numb and pissed off.
Depakote still keeps most of my tears in their place.
Still there have been moments I get out of it and feel so horrible that I’ve had to hurt myself to stop the pain.
So… to not let my mind wonder, I’ve been reading.
I’m pumped with reading 25 books this year.
I’m finally in my 10th book.
Recently finished Fahrenheit 451, Candy and Beautiful Disaster.
Started Hell House yesterday.
I’m trying to mix the genres I read, so I don’t get stuck in the same.
I want the fucking books !
I have the e-books.
I need to touch them.
-pets books-
Getting them is more money so I stick to e-books.
I have yet to call the Online Colleges so they give me information on how much I’d have to pay to study online… and what economic help I’d be getting.
They keep calling me… and I keep ignoring the calls.
I get so fucking anxious, not only it’s going to be disappointing because I know it is a lot of money… and I was going to University without having to pay, but there is the fact that I have to speak English.
I fucking suck at speaking English… my tongue gets twisted and it’s a mess.
Too much fucking anxiety.
I’m anxious all the time and I don’t even know why.
Called the psychiatrist and they didn’t answer.
I’m having some fucking very vivid dreams.
Situations that could happen.
I actually don’t know which have really happened and which ones have been dreams.
It’s freaking me out.
Mostly I’m just feeling neutral and am just… dragging myself to do shit.
No drive to do anything whatsoever.
Besides smoking.


Long weird rant.