I've made an appointment to see the doctor and try some other medication... if there's anything I haven't already uselessly taken. I really can't bear it. I'd be prepared to have ECT at this point...
One problem is the fact that although I have what they useta call 'endogenous' depression anyway, the circumstances of my life are such that even if you weren't depressive by nature, you'd be feeling pretty damn desperate.
As if the flat weren't squalid enough, it now smells of pee all the time. I clean up after him, of course,but I guess there may be spots where he's fitted that I don't know about.
Well, thank heaven there's a bit of cloud cover, so that the sun isn't pounding down on this hotbox quite as fiercely as it might be.
I wonder if I'd actually feel any better if I lived at the seashore? I tend to think so, but there's no hope of that , anyway, and I'd probably be even more isolated. In many ways, I still think London is the best place to be.