But I don’t.
It’s been almost a week that I constantly cry.
Sometimes it just gets so out of control that I don’t know what to do.
The Depakote isn’t working like it was a month ago… so they upped my Seroquel.
I don’t like waking up.
Here I am… awake, with nothing to do.
A lot to do, actually.
I started cleaning my room.
Most of it was trowing away useless shit I grew attached to and old clothes.
Didn’t finish cleaning, my room is even messier.
I get like one day of energy per month.
That’s my fucking quota.
I almost don’t even go outside… my windows are rarely open.
Seems I’ll be ending the year as unstable as I started it.
Oh, and of course, my psychiatrist asked me if I wanted to get hospitalized.
Nothing like knowing even my doctors don’t know what the fuck else to drug me with.
But my nails are colored dark blue, and I like them…