Wednesday, 26 October 2011

I'm kind of realising that I'm going mad. Or that I was never sane. Realising I don't know who I am because all I have are these peices of paper assessing me and hundreds of pages of diaries and poems and letters. And I don't know who I am.
She said to tell her if things get worse. Told me when she'll be in her office. Said she can refer me to the crisis team, that I just have to say.
It seems a bit crazy, a bit much, a bit sudden.

I don't know what I weigh. naked. I weigh 120 in my coat and clothes and boots.

1 comment:

  1. These papers and diaries and letters and forms make up your illness and how it's changed over the past years. They don't define you, they define the illness and the illness isn't you. :( sorry, xxxx