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Life seems to get worse for me the harder I try to correct my issues, whether it's suffering the horrid side-effects of a medication regimen in an attempt to sort out what meds will actually work for my mental health issues, suffering the fallout of the instructions of my sleep doctor in a doomed-to-fail attempt to correct my sleep patterns, or just generally having to wake up every 'day' and muster the strength of will it takes to face the reality that I really have no future and nothing to actually live for. My love of music is all but dead and has been for over a year now, ever since I packed away all my musical equipment after parting ways with someone with whom I fell in love. My love of art seems to be dying as well. I haven't been to the local art center in I don't know how long and I haven't been able to muster the will to paint for at least four months. In fact, all I've managed to do of late, art-wise, is draw some practice sketches from an instructional book I found at a booksale last year, which you can review below if you care. The last six months have been particularly bad, so much so that the dental hygienist at my last cleaning a few days ago could tell based on the build up on my teeth. I spend most of my time in bed doing whatever I can to distract myself from the bleakness of my reality and I really see no hope of change any time soon...

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Submitted on
January 26