I told the doc I'm not going back to the pain clinic again, because of their attitude over the morphine and their insistence on me reducing them, according to their schedule.

He was already not happy with the way the morphine's gone back up lately, even though it's still less than before.

I'm pretty sure he's going to cut me off soon. Then I can die, because I can't bear this pain with no relief at all. I half wish he'd just get on with it, and put me out of my misery

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I don't know why I'm stressing so much about getting a job, trying to find all sorts of ways to make money, trying to sort my phd. I already know how it's going to end. I've always known. The money will run out, I'll have nowhere to live and rather than live on the streets, in pain, without medication, I'll kill myself. I told the doctor today that I can think of little else. Since its going to happen anyway, I might just as well stop worrying. Live as long as the money lasts and at least be stress-free. Then die.

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If I can't even get a second interview for what is essentially my old job, just a different company, then I have no hope.

I'm starting to think they've been slagging me off behind my back.

I can probably survive a year, then I'll be out on the streets. I can't cope with this pain in those conditions.

So, a year to live. I wish it would just hurry up and happen now.

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I feel utterly hated.


I can't get a job because no-one likes me enough to hire me; men on the Internet dating site just fuck off after a few questions; my solicitor and old employer are still fucking me around.

I don't understand why everyone hates me so much. I don't know what I ever did to deserve this. I'm trying so hard to do the right things - to get a job, to find a partner. And instead I'm still stuck at home, all by myself, in agony. My savings are draining away and then what?

I had to have blood tests last week to try and find out why my beautiful hair is falling out. I really really hope it comes back with something fatal. But even that's never going to fucking happen, I'll just get left here to rot. I want to die. Please.

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Lightbulbs. Psychological lightbulbs. And suddenly it all makes sense.

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I actually got a proper night's sleep - the first time in over a year!

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I think I made an important connection today. I need to test it more before I put it up here, but it could be pivotal.

That's the up-side. The down-side is that I couldn't remember whether I'd taken my bedtime dose of quick release morphine. I wasted half an hour convincing myself I must have taken it, worrying that I couldn't feel anything then counting every pill to find out (luckily I did an inventory last nite, so I could easily work it out).

By the time I was certain I hadn't taken it, I was 40 minutes late with it. Which meant the pain had had an extra 40 minutes to build up, which meant it now isn't doing much. And so I've just had to take a bigger top-up dose than I would've liked. And since my levels are already too high, I'm not happy.

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