Diary of a Madman

The party with M.U. last night went pretty well until the end. The guy we played with last time came over too. He's cool with us skiing & is good company in general. The last time, it was one of those threesomes that is just uncomfortable & awkward because everyone is nervous. This time we knew the third person, so it was much more comfortable. M.U. even admitted that she had a really good time (she was not eager for a 3d person because of last time). He left about half way though, which was perfect. Everything was going really well still until probably the last hour when I started to crash. I basically got really depressed and had to stop. It sucked. I could not stop thinking about my situation & what the fuck I'm supposed to do now. I started having "bad thoughts" again. I'm better today, but still not well by any means.
Luckily, I still have 2 Prozacs left, so I popped one earlier, which helped somewhat. I simply forgot to take one yesterday, which was not helpful, I'm sure.
One good thing about crashing I guess, for me, is that I tend to open up a bit (I have walls up that are thicker than the Cheyenne Mountain Military Fucking Command Center). I told her how much I truly despise this world & that I really don't want to do shit anymore, except get fucked up. I know I sound like an angry teenager & I suppose I'm in the same mindset as such. When you are an adult, you're somehow supposed to learn to cope with this shit & become very thick-skinned. Believe me you, I've tried. But I'm way too goddamn sensitive to ignore shit. Go ahead, call me a "pussy", "weakling", or whatever else comes to mind. I don't give a fuck. I am who I am & I'm not going to pretend that I'm not. Fuck that. I'd rather die. Maybe I will.