This morning at around eight-thirty, I explained to the county mental health's new psychiatrist that my suicidal ideations were becoming more frequent.
"Well, if you really want to kill yourself, there's nothing we can do to stop you," he tells me, looking stern and serious (is this the "tough love" approach that I hear about so much when dealing with addicts?). He pauses, and then continues, "But I hope that isn't the case."
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