The Corrupted
CADE
PATIENT JOURNAL
Eat fucking rocks.
You want my thoughts? I wouldn’t be this miserable if I had just listened to her.
GET ME OUT Of THIS FUCKING PRISON
Make her stop. Please, just make the screaming stop.
These meds are bullshit.
I’m broken. Wrong.
Wrong wrong wrong
Maybe she was right. Maybe I shouldn’t be here.
I don’t want to talk to Dad.
I don’t want to talk to ANYONE
I wasn’t trying to drown myself.
IT WAS HER.
You people don’t get it.
Andrea and Seba did.
I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal.I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal. I’m not suicidal.
Howdo I know I haven’t already died?
Fine. I’ll play thegame. (Only because I’m bored.) The best way to describe it is I’m split in pieces. There are shards of me, clashing over and over, trying to fit together again. And they get close. Sometimes they even line up but they don’t stick. It hurts– being broken like this. It’s exhausting. And I’m just so fucking tired.
Feedback on the new meds:
-Some trippy ass dreams
-Not hungry
-Her voice is quieter
-My dick won’t get hard and it’s pissing me off
I’d love to come. That’d be great.
And I need more blue paint. No, I’m not gonna eat it.
Yo can I have my phone back?
It comes in waves– the mania and depression. Not set timeframes. Sometimes episodes last for days and other episodes go on for months.
Pattern recognition. Predicting emotions and outcomes is a trauma response caused by my mother’s emotional instability, not a secret sixth sense? That’s so lame.
