My treatment team can go fk themselves. Between my case manager and therapist, 5 appointments have been cancelled in the past month (there’s supposed to be two a week and it’s not like mire than one was cancelled for more than an hour ahead of the appointment ). They told me the wrong time of my last psychiatrist appointment, so I missed that. Today for my appointment, it was made last minute so they get there and check in and am told I don’t have an appointment today.

They think I’m doing sooo fking great because I’m a year out of the state hospital and haven’t been arrested in a bit, but if I could die, I would make sure to do it in the most painful way ever.

Fk it. I’m drinking. Maybe it’ll keep me still and unconscious on the floor for the rest of the night with the benzos I took.

I know. I gotta get a hold of anti-matter. Anti-Sammy.

I need to be OUT IF THIS BODY. Being numb sucks. Feeling things sucks. I could do without all the screaming, but I’m guilty there too. Yesterday I punched the shyt out of my door because it was too loud. Because that’s what you do for things being too loud, you assault them, of course.

Maybe I’ll cut both my arms off so I can’t cit again.