Sarcasm my dude. It's a shame, cuz its failure has nothing to do with the degree itself and everything to do with my brain exploding.

So am I. It's been close more than a few times, by my own hand and by others.

Definitely want to stay. That's always one of the weirdest things. I really don't want to die. But when I'm in an episode it seems like it's the only thing you can do.

Yeah, Clarke ain't considered classic for no reason.

Ok bud. I mean those are the effective results of what I deal with but I mean, psychosis, mania, and wild and sometimes violent episodes are what I live with. But I mean you do you.

I'm not allowed to be here overnight more than a few times a month, owners rules. Besides, it just puts off a problem - I need to stay in the shelter to qualify for housing support, which I absolutely will need. This isn't a "I just need to get back on my feet" kind of situation. It will take me years of intensive therapy before I could hold any kind of real income unless I get very lucky and manage to write a book or three that sell ok. Which is hard when you're super mentally ill. And the truth of it is, I am a pretty severe case. I've had to come to terms with the fact that I may never get better. The frontline modality didn't work, and others I'm trying now are having limited success managing symptoms a little, but my outlook is pretty bleak.

The amount of people in this thread asserting I have it good is too damned high.

I have some comforts right now. It's been nice. It's recent, and a reprieve from the hellstorm that's been the last 32 years.

But even with those nice things, my world is still pretty miserable and dangerous. To even sleep in the shelter I have to be on titanic amounts of benzos to counteract the incessant panic attacks.

So like, fuck off?

Not really. I'm in appeals for SSI precisely because I can't work. I'm far too unreliable and reactively sensitive.

I'm also buried in student debt for an incomplete art degree from years ago before I was diagnosed and fully understood just how unwell I was. Dropped out like every third semester.

Sure. If your idea of a good time is being raped and surviving a few murder attempts.

Also, I'm a lesbian. When you're manic, you're almost someone else, you do things you'd never do. It's literally psychosis. And when you wake up next to a man, and pretty sure you just did meth again, it feels so fucking vile.

It's pretty hollow tbh. I am on a fuck ton of meds, I dissociate a lot, and most days I'm just barely holding on. These are distractions at best.

Just reread Rendezvous with Rama. I completely forgot about Simps and Simp Masters. Got an actual spit take out of me.

It's not so good when you have zero money, no permanent living situation, a shelter where your life is constantly in danger because of who and what you are, constant dissociative episodes where sometimes you wake up in someone's bed that you don't remember meeting, coming down from hard drugs you don't remember taking, and frequent flier status with the psych ward.

Trans lesbian former sex worker religious incestual CSA survivor with BPD, Bipolar I, and C-PTSD.

Lots of boxes ticked.

Revel in the fact that I've somehow landed a rich friend's richer dad's empty affair penthouse, build model kits friends buy me, take lots of nudes, fuck my friends a lot, play with toys, read, watch shit, get stoned, stay stoned, write, work on getting my metal vocals voice back in shape, have panic attacks, existential crisises and paranoid delusions, and play dumb mobile games.

5 years in art school definitely didn't go to waste.