So, as some people have already gathered by now, the last few days haven't been really good, on the grand scheme of things. (end ultimate understatement) They ain't any better by all means. I'm just trying [sorta unsuccessfully] to swallow it, because if I don't, I know I'll be swallowing something much more fatal.

Last night was really bad.

I hadn't slept in five days or so (I didn't bother to count), and I still had the sleeping tablets that were prescribed to me last time I went on a non-sleeping binge. (not by choice, of course). I didn't want to take them because I had secretly decided what I was going to do if I did take them.

I knew I had to sleep though, 'cause maybe it'd make me feel better. I decided last night at about midnight I would, and that i'd just have to have the willpower to take two and walk away.

I'd taken about ten before Nicky realised I was in the bathroom and rather literally wrestled the sleeping tablets off me.

That got me mad. Really mad. I started hitting him. Quite hard apparently. Then I turned around and punched the bathroom window, completely shattering it all. (like fuck we have money to waste on replacing windows)

Then spent what felt like an eternity curled up on the bathroom floor (in quite a lot of glass and blood- I tore my hand up pretty bad) sobbing hysterically.

I guess I must have passed out at some point because the next thing I know it's twelve hours later and I'm in bed.

Today I feel really shit- but I suppose that can probably be expected after intaking a dozen sleeping tablets... generally feel no better anyway, because I just don't.

But I'm still here.