You want pain? I can give you pain.

I look in the mirror. I see pain. I see hurt and anger.

That pure unadulterated RAGE.

It burns. Consumes.

I'M NOT EQUIPED TO DEAL WITH THIS.

I'm turned inside out and scrubbed raw with poison before you "put me back together"

DO YOU LIKE TEARING ME APART?

Does it make you feel good? DO you like the power? Why do you get to have all of the control?

You pump me full of toxic waste and expect the problem to cease?

I AM THE FUCKING PROBLEM.

It's my mind. It's my disease. My cancer.

Now you want patience?

I'VE BEEN FUCKING PATIENT. I've given you time all you gave me was prescriptions.

And empty fucking words. Pointless hypotheses. And void solutions.

Ridiculous fucking answers to a simple request:

Help me fix myself.

I never asked you to do it for me.

I tried everything you threw at me.

I suffered the sickness, I braved the nausea. Quietly died a little more with every drug you gave me.

I fucking tried and tried and tried.

I almost let you section me, take away my right to refuse.

I soldiered on because I hoped.

YOU FUCKING FAILED ME.

Next time I'll cut deeper.

Next time I'll eat less.

Next time I'll empty all the packs into my stomach.

I'll fucking help me seeing as you wont.