It's been a few days.

Oh well.

I'm still very depressed.
Do you know how I managed to eat, shower, and brush my teeth last night?

I got stoned.
Do you know how I layed in bed for a couple of hours listening to music calmly and then eventually slept?
I got stoned with synthetic (legal) weed.

Do you know how I managed to not cut last night?
Yeah, I was off my face.

So I didn't take the quetiapine for one night. Only me and the internet will know.
I have an appointment with my doctor after art group today. We're hoping he will agree to put me on lithium and citalopram via the med run. I've been fairly consistently depressed since early December. I'd like to not be.

I still have a fair bit of synthetic weed (which is more powerful than I realised, I rolled it up into a joint pretty much and was tripping balls for the next two hours), but only enough marijuana for once more. I prefer the illegal stuff, unsurprisingly, it doesn't taste as harsh and it's a bit more predictable. But whatever. Whatever whatever.

I have a few visible cuts on my forearms. Leisa's going to ask when. I guess I'll tell her the truth. Monday and Tuesday night. Not Wednesday night? No. I was busy being intoxicated.

I have a lot more cuts on my upper arms. They're . . . well my cuts are getting deeper. I need sharper blades. They don't need stitches, but one of them probably needed steri-strips to pull it together . . . it has a massive scab now though. I'm worried I might have a minor infection, they're a bit red. I'll leave it for a few days though, my body usually kicks infections on its own.

Leisa just rang. Said she'll be here in about 20 minutes. Said I sounded good, but my entire side of the conversation consisted of "I'm okay", and "alright, see you".

If I didn't have things to attend I guess I'd be suicidal. But I got shit to do, so I'm just horribly, awfully, low.