|Defence Of Chemical Madness|
You see, I started a diary in a little red book, and got nowhere with it. I tried to make things work with everything I was doing but bah! It didn't continue. And this? This sort of gets forgotten, but it's alright. I come back to it. More than I can say for that little red book. I just sort of store it as I sleep. No one knows where, only me. But that doesn't mean there is anything important inside. Just small rants and echoed irking for some poor male at college. Ugh. Oh well.
ANYWAY. Speaking of college, I'm not good enough. BOOM. I said it. Dealwithit.jpeg.
We've finally got out set in the space now, so that's awesome. Did our first day with the set. LOONG DAY. So much spinning and crouching and more spinning and ducking and fighting and BLARGH. I have a mofo of a bruise on my knee like you wouldn't believe. All I did was knock my knees together whilst I got up from the floor. ¬_¬
I'm all sad face today. There was a leaflet in the canteen about Mental Health Awareness. And all the things they listed about psychosis I suffer with;
I'm getting slightly annoyed with it because A). I didn't ask for the help in the first place as they fucked me over the medical counter every Wednesday. B). When I was eventually in the hands of someone who could "deal with me" she had do fucking clue, which was awesome. C). People are jerks. No one knows you or wants to put in the time to even try and remember your middle names. Why would they want to stop the voices? You're no difference to them. ¬¬ I was told I should see someone about it. So they gave me a leaflet and told me that if you still think you should be getting help with it to go to the student health clinic at college. BUT FUCK THAT.
Oh well. Again with the "Oh well"-ing. What's my problem? Why can't I understand that I need to stop giving up? OH, because my lack of self-worth tells me there isn't a point in anything if we're only going to.. Die..
'It's not how you die that you're remembered for. It's how you lived. It's the people you touched. The minds you changed. The stranger you helped. All that made you -you- in life serves to create you in death. That is what you'll be remembered for.' - Joshua Tate