Today I find myself with another prescription, an older generation anti-psychotic named Trilafon. I'm "psychotic" in the sense that I suffer from "extreme anxiety" over fear of being hated and shunned by those I love. How pathetic. I woke up this morning in my closet, buck naked, wrapped in a comforter. I had crawled in there in the dead of night, barely awake. My psychiatrist told me that it makes me feel better to hide sometimes. That on some level I like to conceal myself from a world that I'm convinced loathes me, and is judging my every thought and move. The picture is of me holding my new and old scripts. Yeah.I'll let you know if it works. Ha!
Save the cheerleader, save the world.
No comments:
Post a Comment