So...
I didn't even show up to that exam.
I don't really care somehow though...
I know that I am bipolar now. I went totally crazy the other night. I've felt that way before, but I though it was just my own craziness. I actually looked into bipolar and was like "yep, that's me".
It doesn't really matter though. I have a doctors appointment on Monday, but I don't want to say anything. They couldn't care less. If I bring it up, it's just going to be me trying to prove to them that I am worthy of help, and them being skeptical then finally being like "*sigh* Fiiine. We'll let you see a therapist once or twice a month" then I'll go to the therapist and they'll ask me how I'm feeling on a scale of 1 to 10, make me reprove that I am fucked up enough to be there then give me shitty motivational quotes.
They don't care. I called my therapist's office on thursday morning, totally despite and panicked, and got told to get another refferal. I don't care anymore. I'm not going to beg for "help".
If if their heart was in it, what could they even say or do? I have to stop relying on a miracle from these people.
Basically, I've totally given up. I have no plans for my future. I can't conceive of a future for myself, even to imagine the next few days. I'm just trying to block out everything. I want to die, but I'm trapped here, so I just have to do my best to not exist while still technically alive.
Pity, guilt and, I suppose, love, keeps me from offing myself, but I still fantasize.
I'm sad because I see how happy and successful and in love people are, and I want it so bad, but I never will. I'm fundamentally fucked up.
I guess my plan is to keep minimally living, deteriorate, become a complete failure.
All my parents hope for me will have disappeared and then I'll be safe to do it. Sometimes it seems unbearable though.
I don't want to hurt them. It would kill mum. but I'm slowly killing her anyways, right?