I'm sorry about the last entry. I keep telling myself I won't pull this drunk, self-pitying shit anymore and I do it over and over again...anyway.
After I posted last night I cried for an hour and then took a long shower and sobered up and went to sleep. And stayed asleep for most of today. And then I got a phone call from Harriet.
She asked how I was doing, chatting like an old friend. She knows so much about me. It's awful. She told me she was worried about me, that I was destroying myself before I could be saved by her fucking fake god. I didn't even bother arguing. I just sat there and listened while she talked to me as if she were my friend. At some point she realized I wasn't listening very hard, and said she'd call back later and hung up. And I did the whole crying panic attack ativan sleep thing again. Rinse and repeat.
The upshot of this is that I'm really, really disconnected right now, and I think I'm not as over my sickness as I thought I was, because my throat still hurts and now I can't sleep because my sleep schedule's all fucked up...More sedatives, more depressants. I'm being careful, though. Don't want to give Harriet the satisfaction of seeing me die. Or something. I feel like theres something I'm missing. Something I've forgotten or forgotten to do.
I don't know what to do.