You don’t know me, yet

You will though. I’m writing these letters anonymously, to no one in particular. If you’ve ever read “The Perks of Being a Wallflower,” maybe you’ll understand. Sometimes it’s just better to know that someone’s listening, whether they know you, or care, or not.

Lately, the days have seemed long. I’ve been depressed, suicidal even. I’m past the teenage years where I get all wrapped up in it. I’m in the adult phase, where my mental illness is just a part of my life, I still have to go to work, I still have papers due. I know I’m not allowed to blow my head off because it’s just not fair to my sweet, aging parents, and the friends that I’m supposed to love enough to want to live to spend time with. I know it sucks, and I know it will pass.

Today was a long day. I finished my Christmas shopping, I worked with a home health patient, I changed my flat tire. I got my car inspected, bought groceries, and wrote a psych final. Doesn’t seem like much when I write it out, but it surely filled my day. Maybe the fever slowed me down, I also have a MRSA infection, and really need to get to the doctor.

Road Trip

Road Trip

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