I lost my pills.
I'm alone. My thoughts are like molasses, they stick around and they almost never change. I had an appointment this morning. My brother knows its a regular thing but I didn't tell him last night and as a result, I missed it. So...unless I "ask" him, he doesn't care. He was never the caring type anyway, like most people it seems.
So I only exist. I don't know why I bother. Well, actually I know, I'm just scared of the alternatives, both of dying (or rather, the process in which I will remove my life) and getting better. So I'm just alive. It sucks. I'm sat here on my rigid, wooden chair that's slowly taking the shape of my arse due to how much time I spend on it everyday, and I just notice how everything seems pointless or cruel, or both.
So I am stuck. I think about suicide a lot, if not almost all the time, but I got no means to get there, nor do I have the conviction. Is it because I want to live? I doubt it, because it certainly doesn't feel like I want to.