(no subject)
Don't you hate it when people you really like change, and then you don't quite like them as well anymore? And we've all done it at least once in our lives, don't lie. Don't you ever think about how the changed person feels? That it might not be their fault? And if you really liked them for the right reasons then it shouldn't matter? But the more you think about it you realize that you just don't care enough to stress over it, right?
Sure, roll your eyes. Say I'm just the stupid fat girl whining because she's alone in a boring town with no job and her parents want her gone, yadda yadda yadda. I'm not a fucking whiner. I'm not being raped by Congo rebels or starving. But mentally I'm in a torture chamber and not by choice. The fact is I AM worthy of SOME happiness and good luck and I have none. I'm 23 years old, I'd like to have some normal thoughts that involve a positive self-image and a healthy mind and sense of humor, etc. It's one thing to feel sorry for someone, but they'll never *understand*. Too many selfish people keep carrying their pristine haughty selves around like they believe other people's dirt should stay their dirt, their problems should stay their problems. Why relate? It just brings them down. And take it from someone who's been down off and on her whole life. It's not fun. You have no choice. It takes control of you. If you feel like you need to blame *us* for being down then you are cruel unfeeling uncaring people. I rarely write in this journal how I suffer, no matter what anyone says, we only give half a shit about others if others give a shit about us first.
I was in a car accident last Friday, we found out today the car that has been paid for since last summer is totalled. I wish there was something I could do. Oh wait, there is. I could pretend I don't exist so my very very low middle class hard-working parents can afford to pay the new freaking car payment every month.
Here's an analogy for ya: I got my wisdom teeth out Tuesday and he didn't wait for my bottom lip to get numb. When he cut into my bottom gum and cut my tooth out, I felt it, it hurt so bad but I remained still. He didn't need to know how much pain I was in, because I knew it would be over soon. Depression doesn't work that way. It's constant pain, it's 24/7 horrible feelings, thoughts, and hopelessness. To imply the scope, I'd rather have a tooth pulled everyday than to deal with this unhappiness another minute. And hermitage or refusal to socialize is NOT "anti-social insecurities" as someone recently (and not so sensitively) put it. You think whatever horrible things about me you want. But you'll never know what it's like, I don't want you to know, NO ONE deserves to know. So the next time you feel like downplaying my feelings and reminding me for the 100th time how "horrible" I am, just bite your tongue and ignore me if you have to. I'm not YOU, and there's no use apologizing for what I can't help.
So I've been a swollen chipmunk since Tuesday, it was funny at first. Yeah. Funny. Steve felt sorry for me and gave me his two-year expired pain medication. Hooray. It doesn't help the fact that yesterday Skinny stepped on my cheek and popped my stitches.
So here's another brain racker: You endure the pain and only get more pain later. That's exactly how depression is. Chronic depression never goes away, even with medication. But you don't care, you want medication to reduce the pain you feel, even a small reduction is such relief.
Why me? What did I do? Why can't I just be happy?
Sure, roll your eyes. Say I'm just the stupid fat girl whining because she's alone in a boring town with no job and her parents want her gone, yadda yadda yadda. I'm not a fucking whiner. I'm not being raped by Congo rebels or starving. But mentally I'm in a torture chamber and not by choice. The fact is I AM worthy of SOME happiness and good luck and I have none. I'm 23 years old, I'd like to have some normal thoughts that involve a positive self-image and a healthy mind and sense of humor, etc. It's one thing to feel sorry for someone, but they'll never *understand*. Too many selfish people keep carrying their pristine haughty selves around like they believe other people's dirt should stay their dirt, their problems should stay their problems. Why relate? It just brings them down. And take it from someone who's been down off and on her whole life. It's not fun. You have no choice. It takes control of you. If you feel like you need to blame *us* for being down then you are cruel unfeeling uncaring people. I rarely write in this journal how I suffer, no matter what anyone says, we only give half a shit about others if others give a shit about us first.
I was in a car accident last Friday, we found out today the car that has been paid for since last summer is totalled. I wish there was something I could do. Oh wait, there is. I could pretend I don't exist so my very very low middle class hard-working parents can afford to pay the new freaking car payment every month.
Here's an analogy for ya: I got my wisdom teeth out Tuesday and he didn't wait for my bottom lip to get numb. When he cut into my bottom gum and cut my tooth out, I felt it, it hurt so bad but I remained still. He didn't need to know how much pain I was in, because I knew it would be over soon. Depression doesn't work that way. It's constant pain, it's 24/7 horrible feelings, thoughts, and hopelessness. To imply the scope, I'd rather have a tooth pulled everyday than to deal with this unhappiness another minute. And hermitage or refusal to socialize is NOT "anti-social insecurities" as someone recently (and not so sensitively) put it. You think whatever horrible things about me you want. But you'll never know what it's like, I don't want you to know, NO ONE deserves to know. So the next time you feel like downplaying my feelings and reminding me for the 100th time how "horrible" I am, just bite your tongue and ignore me if you have to. I'm not YOU, and there's no use apologizing for what I can't help.
So I've been a swollen chipmunk since Tuesday, it was funny at first. Yeah. Funny. Steve felt sorry for me and gave me his two-year expired pain medication. Hooray. It doesn't help the fact that yesterday Skinny stepped on my cheek and popped my stitches.
So here's another brain racker: You endure the pain and only get more pain later. That's exactly how depression is. Chronic depression never goes away, even with medication. But you don't care, you want medication to reduce the pain you feel, even a small reduction is such relief.
Why me? What did I do? Why can't I just be happy?