i need ant-depressants
writing is the only escape i have.
and for once "the one with all the answers needs the help"
so i will write.
pooring out my heart doestn matter. because i simply dont have one to begin with.i mean seriously. i preach about being who you are at the fullest, but i am the most hypercritical at doing that. i cant feel.
as soon as i walk into these walls, its like i am transformed into everything i hate being. i am the current day dr. jekal and mr.hyde. and i hate who that is. i walk into the house i am supposed to call home, but i feel like a donar organ that is costantly being attacked by the body because it is not the correct type or whatnot, and is rejected from inside. regardless, it is so blury i cant even tell if its me who is the cancer from within or its actually being in this "home". i cant take it any more. i am drawing blanks everywhere i turn. and it sucks. i went through pictures of my life today, and i drew a blank on every happy momment i have had in the fucking house. i cant remember being home.
i seriously can feel it killing me everyday. i have this not in my stomach and its tighter and tighter everyday. but i can not be depressed because when i am around people i care and guinally am comfortable around i feel happy. truly. not a mirage. i feel like, like what it is to feel. its a sense of nothing. a sense of who i truly am. and for those people who never no how much i think and care and love you, i think about you everyday.
you keep me alive. i wake up in the morning feeling numb, until i realize that in order for me to be sane, i must be with you and around you.
and you all should know who you are. i litterally live for every single one of you. if it wasnt for the sake of living in spite of myself, i would be gone. but thanks to every single one of you that comfort me without knowing it.
i thank you and love you and i will always deeply apperciate you for keeping me alive and sane and the true and comforted person i am when i am around you.
and im going to go.
because no one will or wants to read the life of me. because its a bnunch of bullshit anyway.
it is. and i am sorry for who i am. but it is truly, all bullshit. and i am sorry.
"all i can say, i should have said, can we take a ride get out of this place while we still have time."
im running on empty and im going to crash.
i love you.
thanks for caring too.
and for once "the one with all the answers needs the help"
so i will write.
pooring out my heart doestn matter. because i simply dont have one to begin with.i mean seriously. i preach about being who you are at the fullest, but i am the most hypercritical at doing that. i cant feel.
as soon as i walk into these walls, its like i am transformed into everything i hate being. i am the current day dr. jekal and mr.hyde. and i hate who that is. i walk into the house i am supposed to call home, but i feel like a donar organ that is costantly being attacked by the body because it is not the correct type or whatnot, and is rejected from inside. regardless, it is so blury i cant even tell if its me who is the cancer from within or its actually being in this "home". i cant take it any more. i am drawing blanks everywhere i turn. and it sucks. i went through pictures of my life today, and i drew a blank on every happy momment i have had in the fucking house. i cant remember being home.
i seriously can feel it killing me everyday. i have this not in my stomach and its tighter and tighter everyday. but i can not be depressed because when i am around people i care and guinally am comfortable around i feel happy. truly. not a mirage. i feel like, like what it is to feel. its a sense of nothing. a sense of who i truly am. and for those people who never no how much i think and care and love you, i think about you everyday.
you keep me alive. i wake up in the morning feeling numb, until i realize that in order for me to be sane, i must be with you and around you.
and you all should know who you are. i litterally live for every single one of you. if it wasnt for the sake of living in spite of myself, i would be gone. but thanks to every single one of you that comfort me without knowing it.
i thank you and love you and i will always deeply apperciate you for keeping me alive and sane and the true and comforted person i am when i am around you.
and im going to go.
because no one will or wants to read the life of me. because its a bnunch of bullshit anyway.
it is. and i am sorry for who i am. but it is truly, all bullshit. and i am sorry.
"all i can say, i should have said, can we take a ride get out of this place while we still have time."
im running on empty and im going to crash.
i love you.
thanks for caring too.