Thrown into the jaws of salvation, they chew and spit. They don't like my taste, I've been dead too long.

I don't know what I am dreaming of, or thinking of, or acting on anymore.

Went to the doctor yesterday. Didn't break. I made sure I didn't, I couldn't, I wouldn't.
I told her what I needed to say.
I'm seeing a psychologist. I don't know when, but I've got another appointment with the doctor on Monday, and one on Wednesday with the psychologist.

I've slept about four hours total these past two nights, and these next few don't look as though they'll be  productive sleep wise either.
Last year of school. The ball.
I should be excited but I want to sleep through it.