Today and yesterday I have been so low, to the point of despair.
I have no pot to smoke to get me through, so I am now on the Vodka. No point in pretending I can get through this with meditation, love and light as my thoughts are just too destructive
Just today, my brain has told me to, pack my bags, leave my baby with someone safe and leave, get in the car and drive and drive till I find somewhere to stay, with the intention of never returning.
Pack all my partners stuff and tell him to leave. I want to be on my own..
Smoke and drink till I cant feel the pain anymore. I would prefer to smoke but where I live is completely dry, so the little local Tesco's come to my rescue by selling quarter bottles of Voddy. Ahhh fuck it, what's the point in it all anyway?
Whats the point in an illness that means I cant be me for more than a few days?
Whats the point is battling?
Whats the point in fighting?
I have always felt like I am jinxed, like I have some curse on me. Is this what life will be like for another 30 years? I'm actually amazed I made it to 30. I thought I would be dead and buried by my early twenties. Maybe I really am just living on borrowed time now?
I apologise for being so self absorbed and depressed. I apologise to anyone who cant be arsed with moaning poeple like me. But in the grand scheme of things, you don't have to read or comment, I'm just fed up with pretending i'm ok.