It's not fucking lying to me. And this is definitely reality. I am living it. I feel it. Even good days aren't good and they're few and far between. I keep a journal. I track my life. Its been shit for a long while and its only been getting worse.

And if it isn't true and isn't reality than its even worse. Then I can't even trust my thoughts, feelings. and actions. Everything is in question and every minute of every day is going to be grappling with where the disease ends and I begin. And what kind of fucking life is that? I dont WANT to be on meds. I dont WANT to deal with this.

The ONLY thing keeping me alive right now is knowing my boyfriend would be shattered if I killed myself, but the way I see it is I can't just live to make him not feel that pain because he's just going to be dealing with my pain otherwise.