Half-lives

Symptoms of withdrawal from Wellbutrin officially began yesterday - Thursday evening - and I don't have anyone that I can call on that can or will help make things easier. It feels like absolutely no one cares about how I'm doing, and like I can't tell anyone how I'm doing anyway.

It's as though I'm trapped in every sense of the term. I'm trapped in my physical space. I'm trapped in my mind. I'm trapped by withdrawal - the only way to alleviate symptoms is to start taking Wellbutrin again, and that isn't an option.


Knowing rationally that the reason why I feel as awful as I do is because my central nervous system is going  haywire in the absence of the drug boosting concentrations of neurotransmitters doesn't help at all. Right now, I can't logic away the feeling that there is no one in the world that's concerned about my well-being. I can't reason away the sensation that KH would be completely, utterly, thoroughly glad if I bit the metaphorical bullet and ended my life tonight, because then there'd no longer be a source of constant negativity present - does she read anymore? does she follow? I can't shake the fear that Marisa's offer to drive me to the hospital is a veiled admission that even she wants to be rid of me and my endless, intractable problems. Knowing doesn't help, because knowing doesn't make the feelings any less real, any less intense, any less distressing. Knowing that capsaicin only tricks receptors into believing that tissue is taking heat damage doesn't make the burning any less painful.


I don't have anyone that can or will make this period any easier. I don't have anyone. Now more than ever I need to be able to lean on someone, and there's no one around for that. I need support, but there's nothing more solid than sand beneath my feet.


I hate being this alone.

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