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Limits

Jo bhi haddein thhi, saarey paar kardi mein ne. Jo teen maheene pehle soch bhi nahin kar saki, paar kardi.

I am a regular free-loader, pill-popper, unsociable isolate. All my understanding about dysthymia was incomplete; thanks to my own stubbornness I am an entire year behind where I could have been. Maybe I didn't even have to leave London, if these bloody pills had worked in the first three months. I appreciate my GP doing what I was comfortable with, however I'm still a child and should have just let her do her thing. Questioning the pills - the whole world is on them. And why the fuck was I so scared of taking Prozac; because it made me suicidal? Wasn't that the whole point of my existence then? What a fucking disappointment I am, even as a depressive. Can't even do that right. And now I have no will to kill myself because it's going to be worse there than here.

I mean, seriously, my entire year has been wasted in fruitless dreams. I don't know myself at all, don't have an inkling about anything.
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