"I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing."

I've been sitting here with a blank page in front of me for hours. I desperately want to let out all the destructive emotions and fears that are crippling me mentally and physically. But I can't. Maybe I'm finally afraid of people seeing what a mess I am through this blog. This was supposed to be an outlet for me to express myself while simultaneously assisting others in their journey through mental illness. I failed. Zoloft and Coffee has been nothing but a display of my weakness. 

I am more lost than I have ever been. Here's the cliff note version my day: 

"Healthy breakfast. Coffee! I'm going to learn yoga and meditation to reach inner peace. Master it now. Click off TV. Volume up on racing thoughts. Fuck, blood? Ok, that happened. At least now my head's clear. Back to the computer for answers. Why am I lying down? Cry. Cry. Throw something. Cry. I hate myself. 'Girlfriend, take one of your pills.' Shit, I slept all afternoon. I'm so fucking fat. But I'm calm. Computer for answers! There are no answers. There are no words. Sleep or wine?"

People keep telling me to chill out, get over it, that it gets better. Bullshit like that. Half the time I cling to those lies out of necessity to keep myself out of the mental hospital and in the world. The other half, I sober up enough to see the ominous reality that this isn't something I can snap out of. I need more help than this computer can give me, more than I am willing to branch out to seek.

Next time I have a little bit of hope mixed with a manic explosion, I'm coming here. Instead of heading to Google, WebMD, HealthyPlace, and AltMedWorld only to be disappointed in the fact no one says that I can get better without leaving my home or taking pills, I will write. I know I can't solve this myself, but bare minimum, I should be able to breath.