3. 2. 1....liftoff.
i can't say what i need to say.
i can't make myself do what i need to do.
i can't stop being a bitch.
& i can't say things on livejournal without regretting them later.
usually, i can't fully express myself on here, solely for the fact that i know someone out there will read it (with my luck, several someones), & that unnerves me. yes, i love most of you. yes, people like renee & the 'dastardly bastard' bob always have good advice/comments. HOWEVER! there are people here that read this that don't comment, but i know they know what i wrote, what i felt.
i am not good at dealing with that.
i appreciate everyone very much, don't get me wrong; i value the fact that many people give enough of a fuck about me to read this, or list me as a friend, or comment, or (______)...
...the problem is, i've never been good at sharing my feelings (honestly, at least), & i've never been good at reciprocating. sometimes, i'll be like "fuck it all" & just say everything i need to say, exactly how i want to say it. "fuck what they think," i say. "fuck them if they don't approve."
usually, though, i censor everything i write. i just can't trust people to understand the difference between a permanent feeling, & a moment of rage. yes, i do sometimes say i don't want to live. i've often said that i'll kill myself before thirty...which, in fact, is still my plan.
i don't trust people to understand that if i say something like this now, it doesn't mean that i'll be dead by tomorrow morning, no matter whether i feel that way at that exact moment, or not. i can't trust a single person but bob & renee NOT to call the authorities, or tell someone, or something like that. so, NO, don't expect me to say what i feel in earnest. if you'd wanted that in the first place, you would've earned my trust. i need to know that i can liberate myself, & be accepted...& that just doesn't happen here.
the truth here is: i'm going to be saying things like that. HERE IT IS, MY ADMITTANCE TO THE WHOLE FUCKING INTRUSIVE WORLD WORLD: yes, my depression is very real. yes, it's hard to deal with. yes, it affects my academic performance, as well as my friendships, relationships, & family affairs.
but:
NO i don't need/want help;
NO i will not take medication;
NO i won't stop cutting, smoking, drinking, or putting cigarettes out on my skin, &
NO I DO NOT WISH TO 'TALK ABOUT IT.'
i'll get over any problem without anyone's help: fuck, i've done it before, & not once or twice. i've dealt with things most of you have never & will never encounter, & i really hope none of you have to deal with these ordeals but NO it does not change who i am; i am NO WEAKER than i ever was.
pot does not make me a weak or bad person.
i fucking smoke, kiddies. deal.
i don't need a reason to do it, i'm not stopping anytime soon, & the most you can do is realize that i'm already past middle-age, in my book. i'm going to enjoy the rest of the time i have left. partying, staying up nights, & self-destruction are my outlets, my good times, my habits.
some people go to church,
some people play sports,
some people write novels,
& some people do exactly what i do.
but you know what? that's the choices we make, the consequences we deal with, & the way we want to live.
nobody seems to understand that i'm living just how i WANT to. & more people should do the same; i can't be the only one this fucked-up system doesn't work for.
i can't make myself do what i need to do.
i can't stop being a bitch.
& i can't say things on livejournal without regretting them later.
usually, i can't fully express myself on here, solely for the fact that i know someone out there will read it (with my luck, several someones), & that unnerves me. yes, i love most of you. yes, people like renee & the 'dastardly bastard' bob always have good advice/comments. HOWEVER! there are people here that read this that don't comment, but i know they know what i wrote, what i felt.
i am not good at dealing with that.
i appreciate everyone very much, don't get me wrong; i value the fact that many people give enough of a fuck about me to read this, or list me as a friend, or comment, or (______)...
...the problem is, i've never been good at sharing my feelings (honestly, at least), & i've never been good at reciprocating. sometimes, i'll be like "fuck it all" & just say everything i need to say, exactly how i want to say it. "fuck what they think," i say. "fuck them if they don't approve."
usually, though, i censor everything i write. i just can't trust people to understand the difference between a permanent feeling, & a moment of rage. yes, i do sometimes say i don't want to live. i've often said that i'll kill myself before thirty...which, in fact, is still my plan.
i don't trust people to understand that if i say something like this now, it doesn't mean that i'll be dead by tomorrow morning, no matter whether i feel that way at that exact moment, or not. i can't trust a single person but bob & renee NOT to call the authorities, or tell someone, or something like that. so, NO, don't expect me to say what i feel in earnest. if you'd wanted that in the first place, you would've earned my trust. i need to know that i can liberate myself, & be accepted...& that just doesn't happen here.
the truth here is: i'm going to be saying things like that. HERE IT IS, MY ADMITTANCE TO THE WHOLE FUCKING INTRUSIVE WORLD WORLD: yes, my depression is very real. yes, it's hard to deal with. yes, it affects my academic performance, as well as my friendships, relationships, & family affairs.
but:
NO i don't need/want help;
NO i will not take medication;
NO i won't stop cutting, smoking, drinking, or putting cigarettes out on my skin, &
NO I DO NOT WISH TO 'TALK ABOUT IT.'
i'll get over any problem without anyone's help: fuck, i've done it before, & not once or twice. i've dealt with things most of you have never & will never encounter, & i really hope none of you have to deal with these ordeals but NO it does not change who i am; i am NO WEAKER than i ever was.
pot does not make me a weak or bad person.
i fucking smoke, kiddies. deal.
i don't need a reason to do it, i'm not stopping anytime soon, & the most you can do is realize that i'm already past middle-age, in my book. i'm going to enjoy the rest of the time i have left. partying, staying up nights, & self-destruction are my outlets, my good times, my habits.
some people go to church,
some people play sports,
some people write novels,
& some people do exactly what i do.
but you know what? that's the choices we make, the consequences we deal with, & the way we want to live.
nobody seems to understand that i'm living just how i WANT to. & more people should do the same; i can't be the only one this fucked-up system doesn't work for.