Everyday i remember how useless i am, and how life doesn't deserve me. A paradox? Perhaps. But it's the truth. However instead of wallowing in self pity like always, how about a new story? The story of the incompetent doctor and nurse? Medicin with side effects has been a part of my life for years now, but when i am presentet with new ones, i know the side effects, because my nurse/ doctor/ psychiatrist/ psychologist is suppose to let me know about dangerous ones. Or so i thought. 6 potential fatal side effects... 6... that is what i found today, now that i finally realised that my "helpers" aren't helping me. They throw me out when i get angry, they throw me out when i am sad, and they let me leave when i tell them i have suicide thoughts? Help? Euthanasia, perhaps, but not anything else. How can they call themselves students of medicin? I will complain to their superiors. I will roar and shout, and everything i have to, so that they will pay. I trusted them, and they sacrifice me like this? They never once helped me, never once gave me advice, only drugs, they didn't understand themselves. My life is hell, and they make money. I will make them understand what they have created. what i have become. And the great thing? I can do it just by writing down, what they have done, and mail it to their superiours. Hopefully. If not, i don't wan't the curse called life.