I accidentally took Seroquel at 3pm today.

Let me explain:
I had Valium at, let’s say say 2pm.

I then spend some time sobbing in public. I then spend more time sobbing in private.

So at, let’s say 3pm, I ask for more Valium but they say no, how about Quetiapine. I don’t know what Quetiapine is because everything has a million names and all that. I just say:

Just give me  anything.

I sleep until 7 when Jeff arrives. He sits patiently while I sleep. We have dinner together, mum’s brodo (her mini meatball soup), and he even brought me some jasmine from mum’s garden. It’s the most positive thing about that house. I should have PTSD because of that house. Maybe I do. I go there every day. I hate that house. I FUCKING HATE THAT HOUSE BUT I GO THERE EVERYDAY.

Jeff and I watch half of Survivor together until it’s time for him to leave. Guests have to leave at 8pm.

After Survivor I hang out with “the group” in the common room (I must give them a name). We order pizza at 10pm. It feels naughty.

I go to sleep listening to Cold Chisel and it makes me want to go back to that time of play and danger. I want danger.