(Or: At Home – Day Sixty)
I can’t get through a day without somehow bickering with my partner, and I don’t know why. It feels like every conversation somehow ends in misunderstandings, or miscommunications, or general temper snapping, or sulking. The temper snapping is mine, the sulking is hers, but good sweet lord I am fed up of arguing about stupid shit.
There’s a sense of inevitability, in some ways. Humans are not supposed to spend this much time in constant, 24/7 company. We do well, under the circumstances, but the circumstances are shit.
I am really unwell. I self-harmed the other day using a folded up milk top, and if that doesn’t speak of desperation, nothing does. I am so fucking done with everything in the mental health services, while what remains of my sanity continues to drip further and further down the drain.
Don’t know what to do.