My dad sat down with me, worried I’m suicidal (I’m not) and that my inability to enjoy such a short life saddens him. It’s all fooolish to be obsessing about the unknowable when I have a real life that I’m ruining. My doctor boosted up the Abilify, and I start seeing the psychiatrist next week. I’ve been offering some financial help in the family lately, let us say, and my mother is afraid and is like “Don’t tell him about that!” He’s a fucking psychiatrist mother. He would not be allowed to tell if anybody else coming in the entire purpose of my seeing him would be for me to realize information like that. I’m nervous as fuck. I’m scared. I keep saying I feel bad, but make no effort to feel any better. Work was hell today.