I am in fuckin' pain here

It's 1:36 on Sunday morning. Which means Saturday is technically over. Which is just as well, since Saturday was the worst day I've had in a long, long time.

What was wrong with Saturday, farmboy?

Man, I was an emotional wreck all fuckin' day and night. I'm talking crying jags all fuckin' day, man.  I'm talking fuckin' moaning. It's really fuckin' bad, man. I am in fuckin' pain here. 

I talked to my therapist today. Or, rather, my ex-therapist. I was in a fuckin' state, let me tell you. Fuck, man, I was crying, I could barely talk. I am so fuckin' broken up about this. It's like too cruel. It's like what else could go wrong? You could lose your only fuckin' lifeline, that's what could go wrong.

Man, I gotta get some kind of rest. This is what my life is these days: being tortured by my own mind while every fuckin' thing falls apart. This is all I think about.

It's mental illness, farmboy.

Tell me about it. 

I need help, man. I can't do it on my own. I don't know enough. There's got to be somebody somewhere who can help me. There's got to be.