A letter from Sep 09, 2023

9/9/23. Its officially been exactly one month since we left the ward and my meds are already not working. Its taking everything I've got not to **** myself, but its not like I can tell people that because they're already wanting to put me back in that god forsaken place. I don't want to go back, but every time I walk into that **** therapy office I'm terrified they'll put me back. They've said multiple times they might do it, like seriously? 2 days after I left they threatened to send me back cause they learned why I was sent there. Like dude, thats why I "got help" and you're going to send me back for something that already got me sent there? nahhhhh I've actually had a breakdown today and yesterday, I almost feel worse than I did the day I got sent to the ward. Memories that have literally never hurt me have me crying to the point of almost puking. I hate these ******* meds. As soon as I'm in control of my own life I won't be taking them anymore. I hate my therapist too, but mom won't let me switch because she likes her. Like okay??? Shes MY therapist, you don't even see her, you sit in the ******* car, if you like her so much then you become her client, but you're not. I AM. And I hate her. I'm just so ******* tired, mentally, emotionally, and physically. I wanna cry, I wanna throw up. Idk, I just wanna die so badly. This isn't fair.