I Hate Weekends

UKKKKHHH WHAT A WASTE OF TIME. It took me all day just to get up. Properly. I actually got up at around 6:30am because I know when I'm not going to sleep any longer. Then I watched some French crap and brooded. Then I switched to American crap: some Danielle Steel mini-drama about a beautiful woman with very fake looking blue-eye contact lenses whose ancient husband is terminally ill falls in love with another man. Halfway through I started leafing through a book, but it was still OK.

I tried going back to bed in the afternoon because I felt so ill but it was a waste of time.

My friend Pink is back in the nuthouse. Transferred back from the unit that gave her skin-grafts for third degree burns she inflicted on her leg by deliberately setting herself on fire. I cannot handle going in there today because 1 she is confined to her room with her leg in splints so no smoking and 2 I cannot face having a shower.

I keep forgetting I am actually (theoretically, at least) taking an antidepressant every single day. For what good it does me. This afternoon I started feeling desperate enough to go and hit doctors I don't know with a sob story about having come down from Manchester with a plane to catch and how I desperately need my Prozac (to induce a manic episode) or Dothiepin (to OD and hopefully die). I think I'd go for the Dothiepin because it's meant to be stronger than Prozac anyhow. Dothiepin is a tricyclic antidepressant, the only type that is worth ODing on. Because you really do go into the classical Danielle Steel drama style unconsciousness. Then you start fitting out. Which knowing my luck would attract my fuckwit neighbours, because fitting people can involuntarily scream. Then you have a heart attack and hopefully never come back. Dothiepin is now known as dosulepin, apparently: see ~ I would have got busted straight away asking for a drug that hasn't even bourne its own name for 20 years...

Well I don't want to die. I just want to get out of here because I am boiling hot. I have a dr's appointment on Wednesday anyhow. The "antidepressant" I mentioned being on is actually an antipsychotic (Seroquel). If I'd been popping real antidepressants I'd have gone star-rocketing up a long while ago. But Seroquel does nothing. It is only recommended for bipolar depression because bipolar people's brains are so fucked they cannot tolerate any normal drugs at all.

Well I've got to go. Sweat is running down my back it is disgusting. I hope your weekend was a hell of a lot better than mine.