I want to cry, I want to break down, I want to remove this fucking mask that I am wearing.
I’m tired of putting on a happy face so that people don’t realize that I am bat shit fucking crazy.
I thought about throwing myself down the stairs today, that would have been painful. Yet is seemed like a good idea. Obviously not good enough to go through with.
Tomorrow Jim will be at work and I’m afraid.
I’m afraid a lot these days. I drank three days in a row. I am not drinking today which is something. Each day, right?
4 days until therapy and likely a new round of pills, fingers crossed.