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nostalgia kills

My reluctance to rehab is that in essence, it is an agreement to an indefinite string of doctors' appointments. Or therapy appointments. Same dif. Doctors do not help me. No one can save you from yourself except you. There really isn't any "help" for that.

If I went somewhere and they got out a little workbook of feelings or some shit like that, not only would it immediately make me want to do all the drugs, but it would make me really angry. I hate that kind of therapy. My first session with my last therapist he wanted to put me in a group of addicts for rehab and my reaction was so strong he threw his workbook in a corner of the room and said "Let's forget about that then..."

Why do they treat addicts like we all have the mentality of elementary school kids? While some of us are stupid, and drugs CAN make you lose brain cells, not everyone who is addicted to [whatever] is a retarded monkey that needs coloring books to express our rage at being born.

The social aspect of rehab is really the only appealing part, but that is a joke and I know it. It would be nice to have a circle of people who are going through a similar experience. Or even just one person. But I am anti-social, and a freak. And even if I did find someone I liked even a little bit, I am too weird for anyone to like me.

No one is going through a similar experience to me. No one really can relate to anyone else. At least, no one relates to me. And I am sick of setting myself up to be in situations that are just going to reinforce my mental issues.

The fortune telling fish I got from the elementary school carnival said that I was "fickle". I guess it was right. There wasn't enough room on the little plastic envelope for it to add "and you're going to die a horribly common death after a lifetime of chronic loneliness."

12:06 PM - Thursday, Aug. 18, 2022

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