When faced with my demons I clothe them and feed them…

Bloody Sunday

Not too bad a day yesterday. Was very fatigued and restless as usual, went out very early in the morning, travelled across London in search of an early breakfast, settled for a McDonalds in Denmark Hill or somewhere, ended up at South Ken, caught the tube back to Finsbury Park, was dozing off all the way, it was sooo uncomfortable.

Been spending too much money on takeaways and breakfasts and getting cabs lately, as a result am somewhat skint, sigh.

Reached back home around 10am, didn’t make it out of the house again after that. This fact was made bearable by a lengthy nap  in the afternoon. I had lentil stew and a jacket potato for lunch. I’d been intending to get to my protest group meeting in the evening, but in the end I could not be arsed and ordered yet another Indian takeaway instead.

Don’t feel too much different without the abilify yet.

Anyone who has ever hated, envied or resented me (you know who you are), have fun lol. I am pretty much down and out these days. I feel as if I am well and truly looking my age, and I certainly feel it. Actually, 53? More like 83, which is actually my mother’s age (she’s in better shape than I am by a long way). I am pre-diabetic. I have fuck all energy. I am cognitively impaired. I hang out on suicide forums and chatrooms. Happy now?

At the end of the day when you are only very tenuously connected to the ‘will to live’, it’s hard to care too much about your health.

Even my Mum appears to have given up her weekly phone calls. Not heard from my son. It’s all fine. Let me slip away . But it’s 4.00am on Monday morning now, my favourite time of the week, and later today I start my philosophy classes at the Mary Ward Centre.


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