You probably won’t believe this, but there are days when I wish I could end this life.  Days like today when I’m left feeling empty, old, weary, and sad.  Mornings when the anger comes on so thick, so dark, so violent I scare myself.  When it circles around and gets worse and worse and I’m doing things which I despise.  And to ease that tension, to deal with that level of emotion, I do something despicable - I turn on myself.  Hitting, punching, scratching, biting - it takes away the tension when it becomes too much.  I’ve been getting worse as the days go on.  I’m not sure what to do.  There is a part of me that is wishing that I was moving out right away, so I could be alone with my pain.  So that there would be the possibility of getting treatment soon.  I’m trapped here, for now.  Or at least that’s the way I feel.  Trapped.  I long for freedom.  Freedom from my job - the freedom to write.  That just gets me irritated.  I didn’t have extra time today, though I did steal some.  I have a story that I’ve been working on.  I haven’t shared it - I want to work on the beginning.  It started out one way and I don’t like the way it goes.  I’m creating a world.  A world with daemons and fey, as I call them.  A world with people both good and bad.  I love that.  I love having the words just flow from my brain into the computer.  I don’t know where it comes from, but I love it.  I hate to take away from that.  There’s a certain beauty in creating something new.  Except for the life of me I cannot remember my main character’s last name!  There’s a part of me that wants to take a lower paying job at a position I may or may not like as much which is much closer to the new place.  But I wouldn’t want to start that until I moved there.  And I don’t move there for another month.  Its so frustrating.  There’s a part of me that wants out of the city desperately - I don’t want to try and find my way there in the event of a strike.  I have a plan for getting there from here, but not from Baldwin.  I don’t think I can afford it.  I’m pretty sure that I cannot afford it.  Co-pays are always going to be there.  I’ll have to pay at least once a week and on some weeks, twice a week.  If I go into physical therapy then there will be co-pays for that three times a week, if I remember my doctor’s orders correctly.  If I leave I might have to go COBRA which could be up to $500 a month.  It can take up to three months to get health benefits, sometimes longer than that if you’re doing a temp to hire.  *sigh*

I don’t want to find myself in a hole I can’t get out of.  At the prompting of my mother I wonder if I’m moving from depression to bipolar.  I don’t want to find myself in a place where dying is more desirable than living.  I was there once.  I don’t want to go back.  I just don’t see a way out.