I'm seeing my psychiatrist tomorrow for my 3 month checkup. I need a total rehaul of my medication, none of it's been working. Not to go too into this since I know plenty of people don't wanna hear this stuff, but essentially I go to bed wishing I was dead and wake up hating myself for those thoughts. Every time I've gotten like this or I become 'difficult' in terms of finding the right pill, she suggests I be admitted. My first psychiatrist almost had me forcefully admitted after a month because he didn't want to be bothered with me. I've been to outpatient clinics before (well, the second was mainly rehab but they had people with depression too, basically lighter problems than me so I wasn't helped) but they're so impersonal and you end up just sitting through lectures about what problem does what and how our pills supposedly work, blabla. School for crazies.

I thought it was maybe because I've been idle so long (I graduated HS last year and I can't hold a job because of my mental conditions and for the longest I'd only go outside once a week because my mom had the car for work and I don't have my license) but once I was able to get out more, unfortunately due to my mom being fired back in March, it didn't get any better. In fact, I wanted inside more because, honestly, I hate the general public. Last night I almost assaulted a group of drunk 21 year old girls because they just wouldn't shut up and kept running around the restaurant. Today I nearly threw a soup bowl at some girls a table away from us because they were practically in the waiter's (who was in his 40s, mind) pants. It disgusts me. I have anger issues, but I've never actually had to be held back from assault. My mom had to lock the door and take the house keys from me (our front door only unlocks with house keys both in and out) because Heather told me her mother not only is charging her $400 rent to live in a house she's kicked out of on a weekly basis for no reason, but that because the poor girl got in a car wreck and her car's in the shop therefore making her unable to drive, the woman cancels her car insurance. Her mom has a history of verbal and emotional abuse, but I'm telling you I had looked at the bus schedule to go to New Orleans and was pocketing a boxcutter. I hate people.

Then I thought maybe it was because Hattie's not been around for a while since for 6 years, ending in January of this year, I had basically become addicted to a so-called friend's presence. It's nothing I'm proud of and basically I fell into depression and anger when she wasn't around and harassed her when she was because she hadn't been around. I'd only gotten a month of a breather before entering this relationship and I swore up and down I wouldn't attach myself like that for both our sakes. And no, I'm not that bad after all he has his reasons and he's always apologizing and whining when he has to go when we can talk. I get sad when he doesn't get online at night or in the morning when I think he may be up before work, but mostly I just say "my poor baby" and sigh. But as of late it's been getting at me in another way.

When I get upset or this emotionally unstable, I need someone to talk to. My mom's out of the question because she doesn't understand my conditions and her first words are "did you take your medicine?" Heather... it's a pissing contest. I have a bad day, tell her, and suddenly she has to tell me everything wrong with her life to top it. The last time I nearly committed suicide she told me to shut up. Hattie's all I have in means of support, but I can't tell him. Our time is so precious that I don't want to ruin it. Saturday when he got home to my crashing I spent half our time trying to brush it off because I didn't want to ruin it by talking about my stupid problems. If I tell him, he worries and he has enough on his plate. I don't want him to think he has to monitor me like a nanny.

But right now I'm so scared. I know she'll at least 'strongly advise' I be admitted, if not outright call them and have the nurses make sure I don't leave. I'm scared to go because I'm frightened of being cut off from the world entirely and treated like a thing that needs food and pills, crammed in a place with others like me who will try to hurt me if the doctors don't. Those places have the same high rape incidents rate as prisons. I want to talk to him about it, but he's apparently so busy he won't even answer my daily text (granted yesterday I skipped because I couldn't think of anything remotely cheery to say because I felt so bad) and I haven't seen him online. I want to tell him what's wrong and have him tell me I'm not crazy, that I can control all this... this nonsense. It's 1 am where he is, he's probably in bed. My appointment isn't until 3 pm tomorrow, but I doubt we'll be able to talk. The closer to the weekend it is, the busier he is. Whenever I need him, he can't be there. It's not his fault, but I'm so tired of being left unsupported. Maybe that's why I cracked.

In lighter news Michelle sent out a replacement bracelet since apparently the first got lost in the mail. Don't know why I want that thing so much.