A lot of my mini-breakdowns happen in the local supermarket. In my first year of living in this town, I was a sobbing mess on the floor because they didn’t sell the particular type of pen I wanted. Today, I was a total mess in the wine aisle because it appears that they don’t sell my favourite bottle anymore. So I couldn’t find it on the shelf so that made me panic, and then I was faced with the daunting decision of having to choose one out of all the others, and there were so many and it was just a disaster because I knew deep down that I couldn’t afford any of them and should probably avoid alcohol altogether, and so I sat on the floor with my empty basket and choked back tears.
I am not very well today. I am not well at all.
I didn’t sleep last night despite swallowing gold dust/diazepam. I spent the night having conversations with myself inside my head and imaginary conversations with other people who don’t give a damn about me anymore. I didn’t sleep. I love to sleep, I live to sleep, and I was deprived of it. Another example to support the notion that “life isn’t fair.”
I have so much to do and so little time and suicidal thoughts are existing in full force today. What’s the point of all of this suffering?
I am so depressed that I can’t see past this laptop screen.
I need someone, anyone to stay with me tonight so that I don’t do anything stupid. Stupid/sensible. I need someone. I need you.