Three Cheers for Psychopharmaceuticals

I do heartily apologize for my recent neglect of my dear little clumsily worded blog. I know exactly how frustrating it is to follow a blog that is falling into disuse. But everytime I was faced with the blinking cursor and the dizzy white square, begging to be written on, I froze. I simply could not bring myself to type what I was feeling.

What I was feeling could only be expressed by a great deal of rich imagery of my insides being ripped out with hooks and knives and shredded into a bloody pulp. I'd sit in class, or lie on my bed, and crave nonexistence like a junkie. I'm rather suprised I'm sitting here typing all this. Depression, despite what the pale, superfluously safety-pinned kids and the awful poems that they write might have you believe, is not for sissies.

So yes, I am taking meds. (Yes, they were free, and prescribed by my dad.)

And no, at the moment, I'd rather not die.

But my junior year is not quite going as I'd hoped.