Go on
Pristiq. That's the name of the SNRI that made me so utterly fucked in the head that I didn't feel like cause & effect was even a thing, so as a result I didn't fear hitting the ground.

It took just 2 weeks of being on a conservative dosage of 50 mg for me to reach that point. But I
regret it
more than I've
ever regretted
anything in my life.
If you
do jump, jump off of a
skyscraper. If you were to survive you would just be sectioned immediately afterward, and upon completion of all your corrective surgeries you'd be shipped off to a random psych ward. Believe me when I say that the the psych ward will offer you
ZERO mercy or compassion in spite of all of your painful & disabling injuries. You'll be racked with pain in a barely functioning excuse for a body while trapped in an insufferable environment for an indefinite amount of time. At that point you'll want to die a
BAJILLION times more than you had before -
trust me.
Also - you'd think that the staff at the ward would treat those with tangible
physical ailments better than the people whose problems are "strictly in their head" due to their distorted views of mental illness,
but they don't. Be it
physical or mental, your welfare means
jack-shit to these so-called "professionals". Everyone is equal in that they're regarded as
unsalvageable human trash.