Aches that shouldn't ache

It has been well noted that I have a paranoid/obsessive compulsive personality. That is why I spent a year in therapy. Now that I have finally detached from my analyst, suddenly, I find myself quite lost and confused. A sharp razorblade runs against my eye every day and my disorders bascailly rule my life. How wonderful. Anger after an obvious let-down by a party whose feelings did not reciprocate mine triggered me to consume more than I can take and almost make a huge mistake- not having made it with the second party, and being a quite forgetful drunk, I have been beating myself with a stick of obsession and insanity for the past week. I don't know why I do this. I am glad I didn't sleep with the second party, because, clearly, it wouldn't have been the right time or the right reasonings, yet I still feel guilt. I am seeing a doctor in a couple of days. Misery loves company. Friends think I am crazy, and well, they are probably right. The only thing that keeps me happy right now is my unruptured hymen as a token that I have not completely lost the one thing that many so easily lose.
I don't know where this lack of excitement is coming from, but it is making me sick. I left the big city for the weekend, only to return to the shit town that caused me so much pain and suffering for the past 4-5 years. I am glad to see the parents, but at the same time, I am nervous, depressed and just crazy, and I cannot talk to them about it. They would make a big deal of it, and not just that, but so much pressure is put on me, so many expectations that are floating in air around me, that I just cannot allow myself to disappoint. Maybe if suctioning is ever needed, I'll have to. Then I'll roll around my bed in pain screaming "I hate myself".
I am ridiculous. Things are as clear as night/day. I just am not sure. I doubt myself. I don't know why.
Part of it is the knowledge that I screwed up. I always screw up. I am not seeing Morrissey in Detroit either. Fuck it all. My god. My god. My god.
I haven't written for days, can't bring myself to pick up a book, haven't done anything productive, and during lectures, my mind is a week away putting the pieces together, trying to confirm what I already know and am told.
I am a hypochondriac. Fuck it. I can't deal with it.