My bestie coming over from Sheffield to meet me in Machester city centre.
I booked a hotel for us. Reasonably priced at £100 a night but you have a checkout time of 12 the next day. Planning to get hammered with him and have a night of talking, catching up, some good food and a wander around town to see the old places we used to go. I wanted to stop at a sushi restaurant but wasn’t sure if he would like it. We went to one for his birthday a long time ago. 2012? See that number in my head means nothing, it was like it was yesterday not a decade ago. then go to ye old pub and sit and talk to the small hours, climb into bed and have a lay in till 11 am. Then get some brunch from Wetherspoons before walking him back to the train station and hugging him goodbye.
He messaged that he was ill and couldn’t make it.
I’m trying to silence my mind on this.
Half of me is screaming “Ha this is what you deserve, you can’t have friends” Then the other half is “OMG is he okay? He has a gut problem”. So depends on which way I look at it. Friends running away from me because I’m a dickhead and a loser. Living in a fucking motel not knowing what’s going to happen next, two frikkin seizures I’ve not told anyone about. Pathetic. A pathetic piece of shit who does nothing but burden people and make it about you. You fucking loser. Do it. You’ve got the pills.
Then of course the logical side says thank god he’s okay and it’s nothing serious. We can meet up again another time, it isn’t a problem. I got the money back from the hotel so no loss. Hopefully, he hasn’t bought his train tickets yet. But you can get a refund on those too. If he’s not up to it, it’s not his fault that his body is being lame.
Oh, mental health. Starting to love you as much as physical help.
Two seizures. Two sets of bumps on my forehead, One biten tongue.
Piss take.
Wow this QOTD went dark fast. I’m not going to kill myself I’m capable of telling my brain to stop and have coping mechanisms in place for when this kind of thing happens.