Sunday night I had my first shit Samaritan. Some dozy bastard called Ian who said things like ‘oh no, that’s awful’ and ‘aw’ and, when I said how much I struggle with relationships, ‘well you can see it from the other person’s point of view, you can’t be the easiest person to be with’. What a stupid c-word. Speech was pressured and thoughts were racing. Spent much of the evening biting my knuckle.

I was really struggling with the urge to self-harm. I’ve got rid of that habit but I’m still binge eating. Rubbish all over the kitchen. Can’t be fucked to cook.

Yesterday I was massively agitated. Feet and hands were going all day. Bit my knuckle again. Barely slept, felt all fucked up for the day until I had a workout. Then I went to the pub quiz and threw myself into meeting as many people as possible. I’m friendly with the locals and one dude, same age as my dad, cornered me – while the conversation was interesting it was all about him massaging his ego and him flattering himself by pretending he could chat me up. I’m sick of this bollocks from blokes. It’s all about ego and whatever you can do to make them feel comfortable, no matter how uncomfortable it might make me feel. I shouldn’t stand for it blah blah fucking blah. Even though I had a lot of fun with L last night I can feel anxiety and awkwardness inside. I can’t figure out where to sit or stand when I’m talking to people.

Drinking last night seemed to help a lot today. I slept well, even if I woke up an hour early and went back to sleep, and was noticeably less agitated all day. Getting home has been shit though. I feel drained and lonely and can’t get out of bed. Don’t want to call anyone but am desperate for company. Burnt my garlic bread and my chips had freezer burn. It’s a dreadful dinner. Exercising would probably help but I feel so tired and low. Plus I need to let my muscles rest after yesterday. I keep thinking about hurting myself, it’s only a vague notion but it exists. I just want this all to be over. My hypochondria and germophobia are fucking with me – my hands are raw from all the washing, even though I didn’t bother having a shower this morning. I have a fixation on sexual health and cold sores – keep checking my fingers for blisters and am convinced I’ve got one in my nose but can’t check. Made myself aware of all the walk in sexual health clinics in my area – obsession or not, it’s useful info.

I’m so fucking bored. I should be getting ready for my mock exam tomorrow but my brain feels like fudge.

On the plus side, my formal complaint to the mental health team has netted me an appointment before my trip to Scotland next week. I also got an apology and am gonna have a 15 minute chat with the unit manager about my concerns.

I want a cuddle but I don’t want anyone to touch me. It’s exhausting having a head full of contradictions. I want a beer but it’ll ruin my insides. I want to hurt myself but I don’t want to hurt myself because it’ll hurt and it’s pointless and I’ve talked myself out of the habit. I’m thoroughly sick of being mentally ill. I need to take the bin out.

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