I'm only a year out from my diagnosis, a year and a half out from my first "psychotic break," and in that time I have made great strides and I've had great resources and I am extremely, extremely lucky.   


I would still do almost anything to get this stupid fucking disorder to disappear forever.   


I spent the day crying, hyperventilating, checking the mirrors, checking locks, arguing with my friends about whether or not I have internal organs, lying to my mother about how I am doing, and fighting off commands to rip my ears off and break all my fingers. I guess I should be grateful that I've gotten to a point where I can do all this and "handle" it without being shipped off to the hospital again. But I don't want to. I don't want to deal with any of this. Days like this, I don't know, I really kind of wonder if it would just be better if I fucking killed myself so I don't have to live like this anymore.   


I have long stretches of good times during which I convince myself that I'm not schizoaffective. And then I have another episode and it's like receiving the diagnosis all over again. I just want it to end, for good.   


*(note: I am not a real suicide risk rn, I currently hold not intent or plan to do it and I have a safety procedure that I am historically really good at following.)*