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I'm still awake, and haven't cut any more. Under the influence of both Diazepam and Seroquel I've spent time alternately staring at the walls and working. I haven't woken George up. He's ill -- let him sleep. There's not a whole lot he can do anyway.
As I stare, my mind keeps coming back to the issue of living versus dying. I truly want to hurt myself badly enough that when I close my eyes, I'll never open them again. But I don't think tonight is going to be the night that it happens. There's a number of reasons for that, including the issue of the bank accounts and how my death might affect other people.
I need help, and I'm not sure that help exists. I need someone or something to get this cancer out of my mind and soul. Maybe when/if I start exercising regularly again I'll feel better, but right now I can barely imagine getting through this night, much less being that proactive.
What the fuck can I do, except keep going?
As I stare, my mind keeps coming back to the issue of living versus dying. I truly want to hurt myself badly enough that when I close my eyes, I'll never open them again. But I don't think tonight is going to be the night that it happens. There's a number of reasons for that, including the issue of the bank accounts and how my death might affect other people.
I need help, and I'm not sure that help exists. I need someone or something to get this cancer out of my mind and soul. Maybe when/if I start exercising regularly again I'll feel better, but right now I can barely imagine getting through this night, much less being that proactive.
What the fuck can I do, except keep going?
