I went to see my psychiatrist today, he said I looked sad. No big news there. The guy annoys me. He is an extremely slow talker and he never says anything new. And he loves to give examples from his personal life which frankly I dont give a shit about. The one good news is that he prescribed anti depressants for my mother, who definitely needs them more than me. As for mine, I havent been taking them and I feel just fine. Nothing's changed. I'm just as sad. Just as indifferent.
This only reminds me that it has to be me who does something. No one is going to do anything for me. When I was little I had this huge fantasy that I'd be saved by someone. It's only after my schizophrenia that I understood that that would never happen, and I have to find a way to be okay with that. This isn't Disney.
I thought perhaps you could benefit of reading this story. If not, at least, it is a very good piece of writing I want to share with you: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/06/fashion/chubby-skinny-accepting-modern-love.html?smid=fb-share&_r=0
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