Nine Months Ago Part 2

It's only 2:00 am. I even waited to take the drugs till midnight, so I wouldn't have to fight an extra 2 hours through the night Not that it makes much of a difference. In 4.5 hours my alarm will go off (not that I really need one) and I'll continue to just survive each torturous moment. The only difference is the daytime doesn't have the shrilling loneliness of the darkness encasing me. But soon I'll be on my way to my first doctor's appointment of the day. I think I have 11 this week. Despite seeing every specialist I can think of not a single one has known what to think My dad was a doctor before he passed away. I used to trust doctors, used to believe in what they say. That was before. Most of them don't have the time of day for me. I can tell some don't give a crap, and none have an actual clue what's going on, or how to help. I so feel helpless. I feel hopeless. If they can't help, how am I supposed to live in this hell? I guess that's where God comes in. That relationship's been wearing thin too - been hanging by a thread for a while now Shoot I'm at my limit. I can't stand to write much more explicit content. Memories of minutes turned years of torture. Forgive these horrors. I can't stand to write them, though they write themselves into each chasm of my soul. I'll try to hold on if you will with me