13:00 Wake up
v bad. should have been up earlier than this.

13:01 Get up. Try and remember if I’ve had any nightmares but can’t remember any.
v good.

13.03 Run bath. Have not washed in days since I went home to see my mum.
v good. Attempt small activities throughout the day that you can accomplish.

13:09 Stare at own reflection, trying to see a soul behind the eyes looking back at me. Cannot. Notice how my features just hang off my face when feeling empty inside. Feel like laughing. Do not.
v bad. You have not taken your pills yet.

13:15 Lie in bath. Listen to rain outside window. It’s like Grimsby outside. Grey. Oppressive. Relentless. Cold. Isolating. But fresh, cleansing. Consider the phrase ‘pathetic fallacy’. Feel warm water irradiating my dirty skin, fragmenting dirt and grime with near-intolerable laser blasts of heat. Think about oblivion. Imagine every cell in my body fragmenting like the dirt - dissolving, crumbling, melting. Feel calm as I listen to the rain.
v bad. If you had taken your pills you would be feeling better by now.

13:46 Towel self dry. Do not like this towel. It is of pour/poor? quality and leaves little bits of itself all over me like fragments of shedded wormskin. Brush teeth. Put on freshly washed white dressing gown and feel clean.
good. Pills?

14:04 Self-awareness: Sit down to finish Housing Benefit Form. Realise instead that I am 9978 days old today. Feel the necessity to do my washing up soon. Realise I have missed Deal or No Deal. Realise I had to think about what my name was. Think about my mum instead and hope she’s okay.

14:14 Sniff the rain. It has no smell.
You still have not taken your pills.

14:16 Play Midnight Radio from Hedwig and the Angry Inch. No lights on and the storm makes it dark. Just the music and the rain.
What do you mean you don’t have any pills?

14:20 Have a cigarette and listen to the rain. Realise don’t want to dirty white dressing grown or make it smell of smoke, so pull on a pair of jeans and a t shirt. The jeans are still damp from the washing machine. I wear them anyway. Continue smoking. Listen to Wicked Little Town. The door’s open and it’s cold but I’m used to it.
What do you mean you don’t take them?

14:38 Acceptance: Feel sick of feeling like this, all the time, just when I start to feel better. Do not know of any other way to feel. Feel nothing. Listen to the rain.
You wouldn’t feel like this if you went to the doctor and got some pills.

14:42 Attempt to do housing benefit form.

15:22 Finish form and collect necessary papers. Speak to a very nice woman at Haringey Council who talks to me like I’m a human being, and not a phone call she needs to make before she can go home. She says I can take it into the housing office rather than risk the postal strike.
You really should consider taking them, you know.

15:28 Leave house. Dress like a person and take my umbrella. I do not open it. I let the rain wash my hair and trickle down my face as I walk to Crouch End through sedate suburban terraces. I still do not feel cold.

17:17 Resolve: Home. Feel better for having gone out. Do not think about tomorrow. I am getting better. I will get better.
I give up.