Tw Depressing Thoughts - Blog Posts
The Moonlight, the stars, the willow outside the window.. stuffed lamb on the floor
Deep inside this memory filled dream
Locked behind this door
Holding my secrets
My cries, my screams
Childhood dreams
Memories of ruby drenched sheets
The only ones
Who have seen the unseen
S. S.
You ever so happy while talking to them then think..this is going to hurt so bad when they leave me.
sure it won’t make me happy…but i’ll feel better than this.
As a young black girl I honestly don’t think I’ll ever feel attractive until I start sexualizing myself. But even if I do that I’ll be objectively ugly regardless and this also applies to how much weight I loose, how much makeup I’ll learn to cake my face with, and the billions of hairstyles and wigs I’ll probably try, all of it will have the same outcome. A girl so ugly she can’t be fixed.
I listen because i know how it feels to be unheard and ignored
I don’t care anymore. Just let me go.
This is all meaningless and pointless. I’m fighting a losing battle, I’m trying to survive something I never had a chance to begin with.
This place only brings me sadness and paint, just let me leave.
I became so attached to my depression that I can't imagine my life without it anymore
28
Seeking control isn’t inherently bad.
I am enjoying the silence, the deliberate choices to filter out the noise that isn’t contributing to a semblance of peace. I decide what to read, who to converse with, and who to visit. I bought this massive crossword puzzle book for $15 to ponder when my mind starts to wander. It wanders often. No matter how many times I reassure myself that I need to prioritize my own mental health so I can better help others, I end up feeling guilty and dismiss my feelings despite the reassurance that these feelings are valid.
I'm nowhere close to having processed my own past. My therapist has talked of retirement within the next year and a half or so, which has kicked off worries of what it will mean to try finding a new therapist, establishing rapport and trust, and doing this all over again. That’s tough to do, even if it could lead to feeling more comfortable talking about my life up until this point. The prospect of searching for a new therapist I can vibe with is worrisome. Can I do without? I don’t know. I told my grandma as much.
Tomorrow hasn’t even arrived and I dread visiting with extended family members I haven’t bothered talking to in probably close to a decade over the comments they made about my mom and I, not to mention their shitty treatment. My mom tried to extend an olive branch. Neither of them have changed much. It’ll be in a setting with my grandparents and two other family members who genuinely care about others. Still, this is one reason why I’m not fond of the holidays - too much drama and politicking.
I’d love to be in the spirit of the holiday season. I envy those who can embrace it wholeheartedly without any reservations. They exude joy and excitement, and sometimes it’s enough to spark a flicker of happiness. The light goes out when I’m reminded of how busy work has become and how this is likely the new norm. There is no promise of help. We fight for scraps. There are days where I don’t have the energy or the emotional capacity to persuade myself that this has a positive impact even if I can’t see it in the moment.
I couldn’t focus long enough to read tonight. All I want is to rest and to find a path to taking better care of myself instead of languishing like this. It has to get better.
atp i don’t care if the attempt fails and i just end up throwing up the meds i just need a break
the need to die is very high rn
finally getting over my ana but getting worse with $/h
😭 what is going on
me with 🪒
I destroy myself to make me feel better but in the end I always feel worse.
The guilt after getting ill is consuming me away. I wish, I was able to change or heal.
And still, I'm curious how an appointment which I used to go to every week a few months ago, turned into something I'm afraid of. Making me have flashbacks over and over when I just hear the word "neurologist. Made me have a whole panic attack just because I need to go to a doctor. No, please, I don't want to be treated anymore... Can't you just avoid me? Don't remember about my disease? Make me live a normal life?
The doctors had been neglecting me for more than a year, and the day after yesterday I casually had tremors, though I needed to stand up. It wasn't too hard, though I walked like a soldier, cuz my legs were too stiff. And yesterday and today, I noticed a glue-like feeling in my joints, as if some liquid was there, plus it's SO FUCKING PAINFUL to bend it... It starts to hurt, burn and the glue feeling gets worse.... I don't know what to do... Looks like I ended up damaged due to the malpractice of doctors!
I'm so tired of feeling nothing. I'm not sad nor happy. It's just... Emptiness?
I wish I was hated in all my social media, so I could cut myself, not thinking about that someone is caring for me.
I wish I could vent to someone... Or at least be hugged. I can't I'm turning into a whimpering mess, all covered in snot, tears, saliva and feeling nauseous. I hate myself
I want to commit suicide.
WHY CAN'T I FUCKING CUT MYSELF?? WHY CAN'T I SLICE MY SKIN AGAIN LIKE I USED TO?! I'M GETTING FUCKING TIRED OF THESE DISABILITIES, SEIZURES AND OTHER SHIT. I JUST WANNA BE HEALTHY OR ALLOWED TO MUTILATE MY BODY. I WANT TO HAVE THE CONTROL I LOST.
you seem cool :3 doing ok ?
Thanks!:33 To be honest I'm something in between relapsing and feeling apathetic, haha... I guess I'll just wait a bit until I feel better instead of cutting
Fuck recovery. I wanna cut.
I want to kill myself because of being disabled. I'm a fucking mess right now. I feel grief, frustration and hopelessness. I wish I could cut myself again.
I'm so fucked up with these diseases thing. Everyone is taking in my disability first instead of my personality. Everyone wants only to discuss my disease instead of my new hobby. Maybe I'm really just a code in ICD... Ehh... Why can't I throw away my feelings and just accept the fact of me being a living movement disorder.