I feel like I'm lucky even to have nine readers with the stuff I've been putting out. And I'm sure you guys don't like reading some of it. I don't blame you. I just don't know if I can write anything good right now. It's like I've said all I can say the only thing I still have is just to sit down and stare off into space until I forget that I'm alive. That's what I've been doing all day, except for a couple of conversations through text messages.
I apologize for sounding like I'm despairing, but I think I am. I feel weak, and tired, like any minute I'm going to lay down and close my eyes and leave this world. The things keeping my mind in place at all are a handful of people split up between here and home, and I love them and appreciate their patience as I've been indulging in self-loathing.
I'm trying to look ahead, and see a future for this blog, but I don't know. I can count on my fingers the number of readers I have, and even those few have to settle for me complaining every day or two instead of actually writing something enjoyable.
It's funny - for a few seconds at a time today, off and on, I've been almost happy. I talk to my psychiatrist again tomorrow .... I wonder what he will say.
Broken Brain
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