Group was s**t today. Doc yelled at me a whole s**t ton. Because I am weak. He says. "You have no inspiration." He also says I need to get out, since I've been locking myself away in my room since... that day.
This depression is overwhelming. There are so many times I was so close to going back to my crutch. Saying "******** it." And just letting the high take me, make me numb. But I didn't. Haven't.
Inspiration... don't think Doc understands that it's hard for me to find 'inspiration'. Oh, he introduced me to a man named Richard. Works with some kind of comic distribution or some s**t. He said he could help me get a job, help me get back on my feet. I turned him down.
I think I prefer to be alone and miserable, because the slight pain I do feel from it, lets me know I'm alive.
I met someone yesterday. Seemed like a good guy, but I already know how it'll end up. Even if we did get together, even if we did like each other, it wouldn't work out. I'm too much of an inconsiderate a*****e.
Doc says, "You can't 'love' anyone, until you can learn to love yourself."
What. The ********]
He told me to think about it, and so I will. Other than that, not much has happened.
Andrew wants me to go out tonight with him and his boyfriend, says he wants me to meet some guy. I might just ditch, climb through a bathroom window or something. He told me to man up. But if sleeping all day is being a p***y, I'd rather be a p***y.
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