Overdoses

The voices have been awful. So has Bree. And I overdosed on an old bottle of my antidepressants over the weekend. I found it in the cupboard under the stairs. It was probably out of date, but I could not care less. I overdosed last night on pills last night, also. That was about the 3rd overdosed in 2 months.

Despite what it looks like, it isn’t a suicide attempt. More like, an attempt to fix myself. I want to kill what’s left of the good in me so I can listen to the voices. I want to kill the thing inside me that holds me back. But at the same time, I don’t. At the same time I want to be free from their constant demands.

I don’t know what I really want anymore. Everything is morphing into one giant hurdle of confusion, and making everything 10x harder.