I had an appointment with the psychiatrist today, likely my last one. I sat in silence, staring blankly as he waited, expecting me to say something. I have nothing more to divulge. The truth is, I'm on the verge of completely giving up. I have no discernable feelings to speak of. Shower me with compliments, stab me with insults, show me a school shooting in the paper and it will all bounce off me as if it never happened. I do not care for my family nor "friends" and I don't not care how I affect them. Slowly, I've cut them away from my life. In fact, there's only a handful of people that I know who can positively say that I'm still alive. He wants to help me. I'm apparently highly antagonistic towards his advances. Why does he want to help me? What's wrong with the way I am right now, as nihility incarnated into an empty shell? I don't need help. I'm no longer depressed about the circumstances in my life. Whatever they may be, they'll just bounce off my thick skin as well. I'll never cry again in this life. If I need help, I can help myself, even if it kills me. I'm fine just the way I am:cured. I told him I didn't want to go back anymore and walked out before he could book me another appointment. He asked me about the Effexor (100+ mg) I'm taking right now. I told him I'd go cold turkey once the prescription runs out. From the rumours, I've heard the withdrawal will be horrendous. So be it. They called me again at home, leaving a message. I'm undecided whether to return their call. Pathetically, the psychiatrist's office is the only one who has contacted me regarding my well-being. None of my classmates, who've surely noticed that I didn't show up for my exams have contacted me. I haven't been on MSN in ages, yet not a ghost of concern from any of them. Thus, I've succeeded in segregating them from my life. Even if they did contact me, I wouldn't really give a damn. I will be a mere memory to them when they read my name in the obituary and I am now free of the attachments that hold me to them. My mind is deteriorating. I've grown too tired to care, to feel, to socialize, to be motivated. When school starts again, when I'm living on campus again, that will be the time I leave. If he says there's still potential and hope within me, I don't care. I have no desire to make anything of it. I am no longer a slave to death, the tyrrant who forces the people of this world to live. I have almost killed myself mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, so that I may die in peace physically.