3:30 in the damn morning
I'm up. It's only when I live here does my clock goes all out of whack.Can't sleep. Seldom ever sleep. When I do, people fret that I'll die in my sleep; much how my mother went.
This is the outcome of anxiety. Can't sleep. Can't make my brain stop. And misery loves company. I've been diagnosed with depression and a mild case of insomnia, the doctors are also detecting I may suffer from bipolar syndrome, but they need further tests. So far, I have refused meds and opted for counseling and seeing a psychologist.
I could blame that one person for why I am up. I could blame my shitty past for this to take place. But I can't even muster up the will to pick up the pen and vent the way I used to. Nothing makes sense to me anymore and that is what triggers everything.













