This blog is way over due.

So on  October 30th I checked into Heritage Oaks Hospital - which was ironically two blocks from my ex boyfriend. Checking in was suppose to be quick... I got there at 12:30pm with my Dad and Bonnie, but the wait was too long so they left me alone. I started getting anxious and started popping my Klonopin. I finally got checked in at 5:30, and they slammed a mandatory 72 hour hold because I took meds in the lobby. So then I basically slept for 3 days when they weren't checking vitals or getting me up for meals. When the 72 hours was up they gave me 5250 which says they can hold me up to 14 days. So I started going to group, etc. There was no individual therapy or anything helpful like that. So on my 7th day I discharged myself.

Since then my family is convinced that I am depressed and have some "serious issues". I'm not depressed. In fact I'm out with friends almost every night. The other day when I got home from an all nighter my brother Brian chewed me out

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? You're stressing dad out with your bullshit. If he dies it'll be your fault"

After that I went upstairs and just cried. Then he knocked and knocked and let himself in. Sitting on my bed trying to be comforting. But he just pissed me off. So I called my sister. Almost word for word Dad, Bonnie, my brother, and my sister lectured me and whatnot. So no one is any help. They're all against me.

Lately I've been hanging out with a high school friend named Peter. He and I do acid, smoke DMT and have sex. He's a really good friend. He listens to me and I listen to him. The second time I smoked DMT I turned into a cat. I had ears, claws, fur, and sounded like a cat. It was incredibly awesome.

I miss Shawn, haven't heard from him in a while, I miss him like crazy.