I'm so ****ing fed up with the public hospital here. They still haven't found a bed for me. My friend is cracking the shits with it. He thinks that they aren't going to admit me at all but just let me sit here and suffer until the cows come home or until I die .... whichever the **** comes first. He is getting to the point where he is going to ring the head doctor (who he calls Hotel Allen - then at least the medical negligence could be excused as alcohol induced) and give him the ultimatum to find me a bed in three hours or he'll ****ing have me committed. He also wants to go down to the hospital with a samurai (sp?) sword or some bullets and kill the hotel. That ****ing pathetic excuse for a doctor doesn't even want to talk to my pdoc. My friend is so close to telling the hospital that all the aboriginals and drug addicts need to find new homes instead of living in the psych ward. If you can't tell ... he is absolutely ****ing livid.

I have a little more energy today, which is both good and bad. On the good side I can do things but on the bad side I'm getting closer to putting my suicide plan into action. I know what I want to do .... or if I want to be 100% honest about it, what the voices want me to do ... and I know that it will work. I also feel like I have to cut because that's the only way to stop myself from doing what the voices want me to do ... but the voices want me to do that as well. AAAAGGGGGGHHHHH.

I had an argument with the strongest of my voices before. I lost. It actually got violent. I tried to stab her with a stanley knife and she whacked my hand into a wall and pushed it behind my back. I guess that's the thing when the voices you hear can actually take control of your body. Meh.