Sunday, June 05, 2005


I see my pdoc on Tuesday. Once again I'm tempted to go off all my meds. Everything is so flat, my moods, what little color I see around me, etc. It's all been muted to an almost surreal level. I know I'm alive, but yet am I really? It's a fucked up trade-off. Take the meds and feel nothing or don't take the meds and feel everything. Why doesn't anyone ever see anything wrong with this? As I'm told, everything isn't all black or white. But yet with the medications it acceptably is all or nothing, why is that?

I want to curl up in a dark, hidden corner of the world where no one can find me. Rot on the outside just as I'm rotting on the inside. A sick luxury I can't afford. Often times I wish to be stricken with cancer and in exchange spare someone else from developing it. I imagine it to be far less painful than being terminally ill with mental illness. I've always found it easier to suffer physically.


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