So, I haven't written here for a very long time, and I don't think anyone is actually interested in reading this anyway. I'm not exactly an exciting person to be around or read about.
It's currently 1:14 AM. My sleeping schedule is all over the place and I've woken up many times during mid day. Two or three days I've almost only slept. Even today I woke up in the morning, fell asleep, woke up, fell asleep, woke up, fell asleep again and had a weird dream where I was locked up in some weird mental hospital and I escaped from it, and then woke up somewhere around mid day.
I haven't done anything productive in days. Which is really bad because I have some things I need to do for a online course and the deadline is later today. I haven't done a thing. I tried the day before yesterday but I couldn't make any sense of the questions or whatever.
I keep lying to myself that I'm fine, telling other people that I'm fine when I'm really not and actually have stress and anxiety about my future that I expect to be a crappy one. Because I have no faith in myself. I thought my worst depression days were during my 7th to 9th grade, but I guess I was wrong. I just want to cry, and cry, and cry but I'm not letting myself to. Because I don't want anyone to hear, and definitely not see. So I'm sitting here, writing this and my throat hurts because I'm holding back from crying.
Isn't it great, this life? This life where I've convinced myself that no one actually cares, where I have to be afraid of crying and where I want to scream until I have no voice left but I can't. This life where I want to find love but know that there a high chance that those feelings that I had before a relationship will disappear. This life where you feel like everything is going to hell and you can't do anything about it, and you don't really want to either because that would put in a spotlight and draw attention. I don't want that attention. It's fucking scary. It's also scary that I think I am mentally, psychologically behind everyone of my age. I don't really have real concrete proof of that, but I still believe it.
Why has it come to that humans think the amount of work and how well you've done it tells how much you're worth? It's like if you don't do any "work", then nothing is really valid in your life.
I'm just a big fucking mess right now. And it's very hard to believe that it well get any better. There's no light at the end of the tunnel. There isn't even a tunnel. You're just surrounded by darkness that presses down on you from all sides without needing walls. It doesn't need any spikes or needles to make you feel like something is stinging your chubby sides, and it doesn't need rope to make you feel like you're choking. It just needs to be there, surrounding you. And you can't really do anything about it. You can't really take any guidance or support because it doesn't help. Words that they think are supportive or helpful just sound like they're mocking you for everything you are, have been, and are going to be.
And there concludes my ramble for today. I'm sure I'll regret posting this later. I always do.
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