I loathe the calendar

Another year has passed and the day I most dread out of all 365 of them is here. Spent most of it asleep, or in tears. The misery I feel is overwhelming and it is taking every ounce of self control to not down all the pills I've been stashing away for the last year. Wouldn't even take much to die, just a handful of something you're not allowed to mix with an MAOI, and I have plenty of those somethings on hand.

I'd like to believe I'll wake up tomorrow and things will be better, easier; but unfortunately I'm a realist, not a dreamer. The emotional turmoil is exacerbated by the date of October 23rd on the calendar, but the turmoil is still there regardless. I have no more a chance of waking in a good mood than I do of rising to find that a penis has grown between my legs.

I loathe the calendar. Day after day filled with commitments that are only mine by proxy. There really is no rest for the weary, unless the weary breakdown and put themselves in the morgue or a coma.