Only I could have a psychiatric appointment booked for me in the same building that I work in *face palm*

Just three floors will separate me and my work colleagues who I do my best to hide my problems from (aside from them accidentally noticing the cuts on my arm)

Then there is of course the worry of bumping into the Psychiatrist himself or any of the staff on a ‘normal’ work day in the corridor or canteen (mentally goes into Eddie Izzard Death Star Canteen Sketch).

Then there is of course the reality that he will judge whether I’m some sort of mental hypocondriac and I’ve somehow made all this up, or he’ll hand me a life sentence of Bipolar Disorder and everything will be fucked. No future, no possibilities. No-one’s going to want to be around me šŸ˜¦

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