Morbid.
I know I have been saying I’m freaking out about this appointment, and I am, but nowhere near as much as I usually would. It’s possibly the scariest situation I’ve been in other than the first ECT disaster, and I’m not feeling it enough. I was thinking it’s just the medication stopping me from feeling things, but actually I think it’s because I know I’m going to kill myself soon so it doesn’t really matter. I’m not saying that for any reason other than it being the truth and this being where I like to put my truths. I’m not upset by this revelation really because there have been many times when I shouldn’t have lived, I’m just calm and I don’t really care. Definitely changing my medication soon anyway because I want to feel things, I want to be myself again and they’re not helping at all with my anxiety anymore. I’ll live to the age of twenty anyway and that’s scary, I’ve accomplished fuck all other than hatred and love and those little things. I don’t know what I’m saying really but I do know that this is important. I always said I wouldn’t live to be 18 and I shouldn’t have, but people have always liked to save me.
