Research

So.
I faced my daemons.
Or rather, my GP.
I sat there. and just stared at him blankly.
I am tired, I am fatigued, I am fed up with this circular trauma.
The symptoms are always the same.
I think I've explained them every which way I possibly can to him.
And I know it's not his fault, but he still gets information wrong.
He looked at me as blankly as I looked at him.
He didn't know what the psychiatrist's plan was. No more than I did.
I said as little as I possibly could. And he handed me half of my medication. With the warning that if I were to 'try anything', he'd 'kill me'.
My point is that I'd have to try something for me to ever be taken seriously, which is such an absurd contradiction because I'd either be locked up or dead if I did that.
Toying with the idea of taking all the pills earlier. Not out of eagerness to die. Just, curiosity as to how seriously I actually would be taken were I to survive.

I am turning myself into a guinea pig of the psychiatric profession. Noting, everything that's happening to me and everything that is said. I want to see how far I can go. How much I can take.