Dear Journal:

My life is spiraling out of control. My depression is back and no one understands what I’m going through. I can’t be cooped up all day in a hot house. I can’t stand to be still. I really hate the fact that I don’t have very motivated friends. I love all of my friends dearly; however I really think that most of my friends are couch potatoes.
I have lost control of my life. I no longer care about anything. I don’t even bother manipulating people. I walk away from fights even though I have the chance to win. Everybody is telling me how to live my life. They nag about me going to school, getting a job, or just life in general. It is getting so fucking annoying that I seriously just blow up.
Teresa wants me to check into Havenwyck’s day hospital so I can get my meds evaluated by a doctor every day. It’s an at-will place, meaning you have the option of leaving at any time. It would only be from like 8:00 AM to 3:00 PM or is it 3:30 PM? I told her I would consider checking it out. I found the website for the hospital and was pleased to find out that Havenwyck will provide a hot lunch in the in-patient hospital; IE: Behind those thick, cold steel doors that are locked at all times. What does this mean? Give me the fucking key so I don’t have to deal with porch monkeys interfering
Every single day is just one step closer to the edge. I will never tell anyone what any of this means…and I have no reason for withholding the information, but I will. I’ve seen doctors to help me…but no matter what, it seems the biochemical aspect of treating mental disorders, leaves a few months into the treatment. It seems as though I will never, ever be able to be normal. The drugs that are supposed to help fail midway into treatment. And I can’t stand with switching doctors or meds or anything…sometimes I think that the only way out is through death. Tears roll down my face as I thought to myself that the only solution to my many problems was/is/will be death.
If I could, I would spend every second of every single day high. It only numbs the pain…and then it comes back and the only things I can think of are dark, hideous things. I am a weak person with no energy to work things out. I had to fight myself to come downstairs to write this entry. I don’t even have the energy to fight.
I wish I could be normal. I want nothing more than that. I want to be the guy next door with my own kids and loving husband. A house with two cars and a dog that I want to name Goose.
I just want to curl up in a ball and just die. I don’t want to exist any more – not even as a thought. The pain is so incredible and astronomical. I pray for the end.