Fuck Walmart.

So I get back from the psychiatrist and go to drop off the new prescriptions and they don't believe me that they are real ones! They called the doctor, who will hopefully call by tomorrow and tell them what fucking idiots they are. They look like any other prescriptions that I've gotten all the time. I think they are just perturbed that someone as fucked up as me needs so many pills, or maybe it's the addition of adderall that they thought was suspicious, or an increase of my ambien that I've been on for several months. Maybe they just don't like me. Maybe I'm paranoid. Maybe I'm delusional. Maybe I'm upset. Maybe I'm sad. Maybe I'm crying like I am now, because all I wanted was to get my klonopin filled, I don't care about anything else, just give me my klonopin so my anxiety can go away. Even my psychiatrist told me that I seem really nervous today and I have been just like she described lately. It's awful. It's awful that I have to wait even longer now to get these pills.
Even after I get them, there's the fear of doing the adderall trials, and figuring out what dose is effective for me or if it's a dead end. If it's a dead end they are going to increase the lithium if my blood levels allow it, and take me Effexor and be off my antidepressant for two weeks for it to clean out, before I go on Parnate which has a million restrictions with drugs and quite a lot of food I can't ever eat again. Or we could do california rocket fuel and watch me get fat, fat, fat, but happy.

Sigh.
I want my pills.
And I want a hug.

Now.
Cry.