Valium tales

Well, for those of you who read my last post you'd know that I was meant to skip a day by taking Valium to sleep through it. (If you want to know why you'll need to read Dissociative, the previous post.)

So, Tuesday night (23rd november) I took my usual sleeping medication (seroquel) and I took a small amount of Valium. *insert skepticism about the Valium working here*
I must say that I did have a headache so I also took two ibuprofen. Then, all mighty and powerful, I went to bed.

I noticed two things. Firstly, my headache got worse from the Valium and secondly, it didn't put me to sleep nor keep me asleep. I woke up at 9:30am which is about standard for me lately.

There are two arguments about what I should have done next. The first is that I should have taken double the amount of Valium to sleep through the day and possibly even the night.
The second argument is that I shouldn't have to take something that will give me headaches. In fact I shouldn't have to take anything at all because I should just "grow a pair" and"get over it".
Both arguments are flawed.

I chose not to take any more drugs and therefore I was conscious through one of the four hardest days of the year. Out of the four November the 24th is by far the worst.

So yes, I did survive the day and that in itself is very little comfort to me. There is nothing remarkable, strong or even remotely good about surviving another day. I'm even starting to believe that's true of all people and not just me.
I have no sympathy anymore. I still empathise with certain people and situations but even that is less than what it used to be.
It really boils down to this: no one cares about me so why should I care about them?*

And thus ends the Valium tales.
I completely realise "tales" implies more than one story but in this instance I have decided to use it as artistic flair.

*while people may care my current perception dictates otherwise and as such I am very much alone in a cruel, heartless and careless world.