Dear Stan Marsh

Entry 3- Nov 21, 2018

Entry 3- Nov 21, 2018

Dear friend,

I had a long day. Filled with many 'activities.' I first had to deal with my psychiatrist, who kept telling me that I need to do things that make me happy. Like what? When I sit in my room with the lights on, I wear my headphones and listen to music for a while. When I could, I would drink alcohol until the music made me feel like I was high. That's dumb to even state when I drink, but it's true. When I listen to any kind of Lana Del Rey song, I want a beer or a joint. Anyway, I told my psychiatrist what I liked to do and she told me I need to do something else, such as read a book, write in a journal, go outside, or play a board game. Hell, even draw. I don't want to though. What fun is that?

After that mess, I ended up trailing off outside with this guy named Richard. He seemed alright, I guess. He told me how to sneak things in without getting caught, but I don't have a person to do that. He's in here because he's suffering from some form of PTSD and his suicidal thoughts. I can tell he's hurting. I can see it in his eyes. The way he talks with his fidgity hands and the way he averts his eyes.

God. I just miss my best friends. I need someone that's stable. Why is this happening to me? Why can't I just go back to being normal? What happened to me? Why can't I put my finger on this?

With Love,

Stanley Marsh

PS. I forgot to mention that my psychiatrist prescribed me with 25 mg of visatril, to help me sleep, and 10 mg of Lexapro.

PSS. I also forgot to say that after meeting up with Richard, I went to my room and the nurse said that a redhead named Kyle dropped by. She couldn't find me, so Kyle left. I wish he would have just waited. Who knows if he'll even come back...

Notes:

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