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Shattered.

No matter where you go, no matter how far you run, you can't run away from yourself.

Seriously, how many times can a person break before the only things left are shattered fragments too small to piece back together?

I am fucking sick of this city and the fact as a fucking white male that getting services for my mental and physical health is a fucking joke... do i have to go fucking postal on someone to get the attention to my mental health needs that i fucking need? 26 years of not dealing with these people and every fucking second of it i had a damn good reason. i'm pretty sure the reality of my situation is that i have to move on to successfully get any help or services i need.. because the brick walls placed in front of me here are just another system of control. i rejected their help for so fucking long, they have come to the conclusion that i'm not worthy of any help now.. why the hell would i trust any institution esp the one that is probably more than a little fucking responsible for my current mental state...im a graduate of the fucking cutting college...why the fuck cant i get help. oh wait that's right.. wrong colour... wrong sex. and I've rejected the government and institutions esp medically for so fucking long of course they don't want to fucking help me.... good i don't want their fucking help... last time i reach out for help.. if it ends in failure I'm done.

I can deal and function with my own mental health, i don't do it well, but i can function. i don't need help, even when I'm asking for it. I'm frustrated by today's fucking events and i still do not trust the fucking medical establishment, it fucking sucks that someone is reaching out for help and can't get it. i'm glad i have coping mechanism to deal with shit myself. i might not be dealing with things correctly or positively.. but i am fucking dealing and thats more than i can say for the help from Hamilton health sciences.

Current Mood: Angry, Sad.

I feel like I am a diluted version of myself. A piece of crayon that was left unused. An abandoned car that was forgotten by its owner. I feel like I am a roadside accident. People are just stopping by to see the damage, but no one is trying to help me. I want you to come back and stop me from burning my own fuel. I want you to put me back in the pack of crayons. I want you to make me whole again.

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