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The voices in your head. (Triggering?)
Posted December 31st 2012 at 02:09 AM by i_like_black
"Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead."
I don't have voices in my head. I often get asked if I do . . . I don't. I have ideas, and plans, and urges . . . but they all come from me. Not some "other" thing. Just me. Which I suppose makes me somewhat sicker . . . I don't know.
I tore apart a razor because my old blades are blunt. I tore. Apart. A razor.
Ladies, (gents?) I am not well. I do not know what to do.
Everyday is a sure sign things are going downhill. So, so fast . . .
I barely eat. I'm not hungry. I struggle to sleep (although I really appreciate it when I can actually sleep). I SH frequently. I've stopped taking my meds.
I don't know who to tell.
My doctor is on holiday. My keyworker is on holiday. My CSW is on holiday.
I saw my probation officer on Friday, I don't want to bug her again today. I have an appointment on Thursday anyway.
I feel so low. I feel so frustrated. I want to punch things, kick things, destroy things, set things on fire, walk on motorways, wander up the middle of the road . . .
. . . I want my license back if I don't die though. So I'm just cutting. Just cutting and getting lower and lower and lower.
I'm not coping.
I don't have voices in my head. I often get asked if I do . . . I don't. I have ideas, and plans, and urges . . . but they all come from me. Not some "other" thing. Just me. Which I suppose makes me somewhat sicker . . . I don't know.
I tore apart a razor because my old blades are blunt. I tore. Apart. A razor.
Ladies, (gents?) I am not well. I do not know what to do.
Everyday is a sure sign things are going downhill. So, so fast . . .
I barely eat. I'm not hungry. I struggle to sleep (although I really appreciate it when I can actually sleep). I SH frequently. I've stopped taking my meds.
I don't know who to tell.
My doctor is on holiday. My keyworker is on holiday. My CSW is on holiday.
I saw my probation officer on Friday, I don't want to bug her again today. I have an appointment on Thursday anyway.
I feel so low. I feel so frustrated. I want to punch things, kick things, destroy things, set things on fire, walk on motorways, wander up the middle of the road . . .
. . . I want my license back if I don't die though. So I'm just cutting. Just cutting and getting lower and lower and lower.
I'm not coping.
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