Last night I had another mini breakdown. I have become used to these more or less over the years, but now adays I am getting tired of being, or having to be, used to them and this one was in front of Matthew.

Ah, Matthew, the love of my life who so wants to help me in my fight against depression. There is nothing worse than having someone so willing to help but so unable to do so. This is not something that can be cured through just talking and hugging, its a tricky combination of drugs and therapy. A combination my phyciatrist, or as I like to call her "my drug dealer", seems to relish with just a bit too much enthusiasm. It is as though she wants a drug to fail just so she can write me another perscription on that little pad of hers.

So right now, its back to the bathroom for another bought with the toilet...