Hamlet, the sequel?

I've decided to cease and desist with the therapy.  Aaron reckons I've gotten worse.

So I'm going to stop seeing the therapist and stop with the medication (not that I'm on much right now anyway, due to healthcare snafu).

Tomorrow's therapy session will not go well.

The Therapist will not agree with my assessment.

I'm not looking forward to it.

And I will miss her alot.

But if it isn't working, it isn't working.

And I'm googling ways to kill yourself with common household objects.  So I'd say it isn't working.

The money makes me want to die.  The job makes me want to die.  The living situation makes me want to die.  My inability to cope with and manage most aspects of adult life makes me want to die.

And my guilt over what this is all doing to Aaron?  I want to curl up into a little miserable ball and expire.

But comes a time one must, surely, stop passively longing for release and finally take action, right?

If only there were a poisoned-sword duel I could attend.  Alas and alack.