I ran my tongue across my cracked lips, salivating at just the thought of it. The calm, warm and orgasmic nodding, one that made everything so sensual.

Pregabalin. Just another three hundred milligrams would do me just fine. I just needed it.

I could practically taste the chemical drips in the back of my throat, making my eyes twitch and water. I was only on one hundred milligrams right now, my mum had kept them locked up since my overdose, which was enough to take the edge of but not do much else.

Tomorrow I'm going to talk to the home treatment team. Ask them about upping my olanzapine and putting me on haloperidol as PNR.

Focus on that instead. Think about literally anything else.

I can't. It's all too consuming.

I remember when I popped four hundred milligrams right before my first class for my diploma, because the sudden change was so shocking I needed something to make me sociable. At least that's what I told myself.

I wasn't abusing my meds in hospital, and I made three close friends in there. I even got to snog one of them, so maybe I don't need it.

But maybe I do. My head feels like it could spilt apart with all the contradictions swirling around in it. All I know is I need help. When I get even help myself. Abusing my olanzapine, my mirtazapine, my zopiclone and my pregabalin.

I don't know why I do it. I just found myself saying fuck it and taking one too many on my bad days. Then every day was a bad day.

I fiddle with the tongue piercing I got the other day, running the metal ball across the roof of my mouth. I'd got it because the guy I'd been sexting, a former patient I'd met during dialectical behavioural therapy, said he found piercings sexy.

I blame my EUPD for falling madly in love with him at the initial attention he gave me. The attention and the affection, and now I'm wrapped around his little finger. At first I was somewhat disappointed when he said we'd probably start out as shag buddies and see where we go from there, because I so desperately needed to feel loved and adored. But, honestly, now I'm just glad for any kind of escape from my life.

I go back to thinking about pregabalin.

I can't help it. It's all I can do. The wave of calm from the prescribed doses of olanzapine, mirtazapine and pregabalin is just barely washing over me, and I just want to sleep this wretched day away.

Part of me is thinking of going down to the medicine cabinet tonight, while everybody sleeps, and just taking all the paracetamol in it. I just want to die. I'd rather die than live in this perpetual pain. Doctors refuse to listen to me.

I think I'm more or less done here.

Tonight. I do it tonight.