The shame of mental illness.

I came to grips with the fact that I indeed needed to be in the hospital. I couldn’t remember the past year. Hell, I was in a fog most of the time anyway as was per usual when you are on heavy psychotropic medicine. I couldn’t even start to think about trying to piece things together. I was too busy dealing with excessive drooling for half the day and criminal cottonmouth for the rest of the day. So they give you a med for side effects. But that med has it’s own fucking side effect! And the shit makes you sleepy! During the day of course, and then lights out at 11 , but now you can’t sleep, so they give you another fucking med for that! The one thing they didn’t do, was sit down and talk to you for an hour to try to get to the bottom of things like you see in the cartoons or TV. I needed meds then, but more than that I needed someone to talk to that could try and figure out what the fuck my purpose was on this planet. 120

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