I wish I could write. I want to work more on my novel, but everytime I sit at my notebook my mind goes blank and I feel like I’m being mentally drowned. I don’t want to push it because if I do that, I’m gonna go crazy and I’m not going to want to write at all.

There’s so many thoughts spinning round in my head that I wish that I could just talk to someone about, but I feel like there’s no one on the planet that would understand any of them. Well, that’s just not true…there’s a couple of people who will sit and listen to me talk for hours on end…but one I pay for and the other I’m starting to feel like I’m using as a free psychiatrist.  I joked the other day that he should charge me too.

And I have no more meds left, I am totally broke and I can’t get anymore Depacote. I’m starting to feel like my body is getting withdrawals from them and I’m already climbing the walls without them.  I don’t know what to do anymore.