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I'm still not doing great. Been following psych advice and taking lots of valium, lying around, trying to chill out and not punch anyone but I am still full of RAGE as well as the usual self-pity and towering torrents of irrational emotion of all kinds.

I had a jolly half hour unfriending people who piss me off on facebook, quite a few, it turns out. What is the point of pretending to like people? I am no longer going to be kind to people who can't be arsed to be kind to me.

Because here's the thing - I am living with, fighting, whatever you call it, the urge to just fucking kill myself and go over there, to be with those that have gone before, some of whom are my closest, dearest pals, because I CANNOT FUCKING FACE what life has in store for me over the next few months. This doesn't make for jolly reading, so do feel free to fuck off and not come back. I would, if I were you.

If you do stay around, you are clearly under no obligation to comment, of course not, how could that be? And what would you say anyway? You may choose to tell me to shape up, that plenty of people have it worse, BUT THAT WOULD NOT BE NEWS. I know this. I am not the only person living at the crossroads of madness and grief and I do have a roof over my head and two living sentient children so I should shut the fuck up, but I can't and I won't.

Ach, I can't remember where I was going with that - I've had enough of people carrying on as if it's all just a choice, that I could snap out of it, best not mention it, that I have chosen not to celebrate the new year out of some weird miserablist bullshit.

I don't know what I'm saying so I'm off.

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