Yesterday I visited the psychiatrist. I’m not on any anti-depressant anymore. Everyone thinks I should be though. Before she didn’t want to put me on a stimulant because it potentially affects glaucoma, but now she wants to.
Sometimes my vision shifts. Like, say you held your eyes and suddenly dropped them a couple inches. I can sometimes see my pulse in my eyes. It makes them quiver. I’m so unfocused on balance that I run into walls, and sometimes I am too breathless and weak to go up two flights of stairs. I felt deep sadness the rest of yesterday just from talking about structure and career placement.
I’ve tried things, and I don’t give a shit. I’ve tried to focus on one thing, and I don’t care enough. I’m so goddamn tired to popping some pill or another to try to make myself better.
I don’t want to die. It’s why I DO try to keep you folks and the people around me in my heart and do these piddly projects of my own to be doing something, but I don’t know, man. Living is hard.