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At 29 years old, I walked into the Senate chamber and got arrested. It happened on a Saturday when I was visiting friends at Georgetown University. I was fascinated by the Senate and decided to check it out. There were no guards stopping me, so I walked in and found myself in the chamber. I even sat in the presiding officer's seat. But then a guy grabbed me and said I was under arrest.

Oh my god, I can't believe what just happened. I was just on a plane. Unbelievable. Where even am I right now? This is insane.

I'm being kicked out of my hotel for asking for an N95 mask. I'm struggling with money, scams, and health issues. I can't find stable housing. I feel lost and alone. I just want a safe place to call home. I'm sober, but struggling without my ADHD medication. I feel tired, hungry, and in need of comfort. I'm in Asheville, North Carolina, with nowhere to go. I'm angry at discrimination against disabled people and COVID misinformation. I just want a place to belong.

I recall the moment I lost my mind. There was a certain comfort in that place, where even emotions resonated in the vastness. When I was carefree, I felt disconnected from reality.

I couldn't sleep, so I took a drive around Joburg and realized why I feel both fulfilled and lonely. I enjoy my trips and activities, but I struggle to find companionship. I keep hoping for a relationship, but it hasn't happened in seven years. No matter how hard I work or what I achieve, I still feel empty at home and in bed. All my emotions and thoughts seem trapped inside me.

I thought it could be a life or death situation for me. When I was on the floor, I remembered all the times I had thought about what I would do in that situation, and now I was actually doing it. We watched the riot on TV for hours from a secure location. Seeing the images of windows being broken and people climbing walls made me feel angry. It caused an audible gasp in the room.

I'm at the mall and it feels like a simulation. Some stores seem fine, like lingerie or phone cases, but others selling dream catcher earrings and rocks? No way. It's all fake.

My house is a mess. There's stuff everywhere, even on the windows. It's overwhelming.

I couldn't explain it. I wish you could feel what it's like in my head. It was chaotic, with voices getting louder and louder. It triggered a psychotic break.

I implanted an RFID chip in my hand to open doors, but it doesn't work. I also have a scar from the procedure.

At first, I found the idea of people wanting amputations strange and extreme. However, I realized that there is a similarity with transsexuals who desire to remove healthy body parts to align with their ideal body image. This made me understand that the desire for amputation is driven by a powerful and urgent psychological obsession.

I recall when I lost my mind. There was something enjoyable about that place.

I was hopeful for myself and everyone around me, believing in a brighter future and my dreams coming true. Unfortunately, that hope hasn't materialized. Instead, I've ended up with more debt than I ever imagined. How did this happen?

I'm locked in an assisted living facility in New York, and it feels like a prison. I'm isolated here with much older people. I eat alone because it's depressing to eat with the others. All I have is a bathroom, a closet, and a TV that I had to get myself. I'm not allowed to go out or have visitors. I can call out, but no one can call me. I've been asking for an iPad for what feels like years, and I want my phone back so I can talk to my family and friends. In the last month, I've only been outside twice, for dental appointments. The system has completely failed me. The guardian is supposed to permit me as much independence as practical, but this is the opposite of independence. I want my freedom back.

I recall the moment I lost my mind. There was a certain comfort in that space, where even emotions resonate. Being out there, carefree, made me feel disconnected.

Can I get the ramp down? I'm 64 and disabled, on my way to the hospital to pick someone up. I can't lift my electric wheelchair. Why isn't the ramp being put down? It’s a wheelchair access ramp. I need help getting it down. I’ve explained my situation, but it seems no one is listening. I can’t wait here all day. Can someone call for assistance? I need to get to the hospital, and it’s frustrating that this isn’t being addressed. I just need the ramp down so I can get my wheelchair on. Please, can someone help?

I was really worried about the coronavirus and everyone around me not wearing masks or gloves. I felt confused about who to trust, the experts on TV or the ones on Facebook. I wondered why Dr. Fauci wasn't doing news conferences anymore. It made me think if something happened to him. I started panicking, imagining if a spaceship took him away. I needed to calm down. I also didn't know what to do with my gloves and mask if the virus wasn't around. I didn't want to just throw them on the street. And then I touched the steering wheel, which made me even more anxious.

I don't have access to reproductive health, and while I haven't had an abortion, I know many women who have. It feels like a rite of passage into womanhood that I'm denied and will never experience. It's not a prerequisite, but it feels like a rite of passage in some ways. I cope by talking to friends online. There's no real organized community for women who aren't able to have an abortion, but we connect and support each other when we can.

I thought Donald Trump was assassinated after leaving the movies, which made me ecstatic briefly. But when I realized it wasn't true, it became the worst day of my life.

I regret getting a sex change. My hole is infected and smells terrible. I feel like taking my own life. I think I'll get more attention than gay people. Some men can become women by trading their genitals, but it's not worth it because it smells bad. There's a global mission to change genitals, even for minors. I used to be named Craig, but now I'm a new girl with a Y chromosome. I got brainwashed by the internet and now I'm stuck with this regret. I should have just stayed gay.

Today is a tough day emotionally. I'm reflecting on how much I miss my patients and the feeling of being a human. Part of me has accepted the situation, but another part is stubbornly resisting, and that's what I'm struggling with right now. Check out my shirt! My mother-in-law brought it over. It's a 1992 Snoop Dogg shirt that says "Ain't nothing but a G thing, baby." I look like I'm ready to play tennis. My hair is growing back in, though. I'm a mess.

I recall the moment I lost my mind. There was an odd sense of comfort in that space.

To see if I still feel, I focus on the pain because it's the only thing that feels real. The needle tears the hole, bringing that old familiar sting. I try to kill it all, but I remember everything.

It feels like digging my own grave, but worse. It's as if I'm not only digging but also preparing to stab myself and fall into it.

I had two craniotomies for aneurysms in my brain, learning about the limited knowledge of neurosurgeons and the brain's functions. We know little about its recovery abilities and predicting outcomes. I once doubted my ability to function well after a medical procedure.