From the moment I wake up the pain begins. I fight waking life to no avail until anxiety wins over and I get up. I fear that if I don't get up and do the things I believe I need to do, life would get that much harder. I have to get up, I have to put on clothes and look "presentable" to the public. I should eat but most of the time that requires too much energy and often I don't find that mandatory. I have to get on my bike and peddle through human and vehicular traffic on my way to classes I have to attend. I have to pay attention though that seems to require more energy than I can gather and I get overly anxious as I fall behind in the lecture. I have to go to therapy once a week, which I do look forward to though it does remind me of how much I hate everything I've been writing about. I have to get back on my bike and peddle through more human and vehicular traffic to a job I have to have. I have to fill prescriptions for customers complaining about paying too much for the same medications I pay more for. I have to put up with angry customers demanding their pills and blaming me for problems due to faceless agencies. I have to get back on my bike and peddle through human and vehicular traffic back home where I have to do work for classes when I don't have the energy to figure out what I was earlier behind on. At this point I have to eat despite no appetite nor the energy to figure out a meal, otherwise the headaches turn to migranes. I have to take pills so that every little moment of every day I live is less painful and I become more detached from the world in which it pains me to live. Then I absolutely crave sleep, which is something I've been desiring all day long. I hope not to wake and endlessly dream. Waking life, moment by moment is painful and seems altogether pointless. Do I really have to do all these things? At what point do I call it quits?