Sunday, May 29, 2011

Spring 1999


I just wanted to help. I really thought if I tried talking to the doctor he'd understand better. Instead of trying to shut us up with Risperdal he'd maybe get that we're not trying to fuck up her life. Not all of us. That's what Pastor R and Pat and Charlie think anyway. I'm pretty sure just  being fucks up her life but I'm scared to disappear. The drugs make us feel, I don't know, not disconnected but less. It's like feeling like I'm nothing but a wisp of fog and the drugs might burn us into nothingness. And they're making her sick.

It was kinda pointless, trying to talk to this guy. I should know better. Everytime I try to do something good it gets screwed up. I'm sorry if I just made it worse.
It's not like there's a doctor out there who even gets it. I tried explaining the cutting too but I swear it's like I scared him. All he wanted to talk about was hospitals and groups and other crap that never helped before. He's afraid I'm going to kill her. I'm not the one who wants to do that. he doesn't know much about it but I was stupid to think if I talked to him maybe he'd try to learn instead of just trying to get rid of us. He's probably just going to give her more drugs now.
I tried to help her and it's probably just going to make things worse. I mean I was scared shitless but he looked like he was afraid I might jump up and stab him or something.
I should've known and now it's probably going to be worse. Everything I try gets screwed up. I don't know why I try.