First... second... third

First the flu. Second, depression. And now the third -- Ipsos in one hour.

I'm hanging on by my fingernails. How can I look so coherent on the outside when I'm in ruins on the inside? Medication is a lie, all the skills I learned to shore myself up a prolonged joke.

Ashes. Embers. Poison. Razors. Black falling into white falling into black. Why won't it end?