Monday morning. Grey skies and rain. So is my mood. My sleep patterns are all over the place.
Last night, woke up about 1.30 and went to the kitchen. I had very dangerous thoughts on my mind. I opened the draw, looked in the paracetamol box, and saw there were only 8 tablets in there. I thought to myself "What's the point of doing this? You're only harming the people you leave behind". So I made a cup of tea and
went back to bed, having considered the futility of quite a few things. Was meant to go out today, but I feel thoroughly terrible, again.

It's like having a mind with a blanket thrown over it. You struggle like mad to get it off, but you can't. I feel as though I've hit another massive wall again, and in danger of undoing hard work and goodwill from other people. I'm only a danger to myself, will I press the self destruct button again?