I feel like I’m gradually losing everything, and I fucking hate it.
Seriously? Why am I doing this right now? Why is it that I can do nothing but write? Can I just extract the sole good part of my mind and get rid of everything else? I mean, sometimes I feel it’s nice enough that I can manipulate my thoughts into things that are actually helpful and appreciable, and some days I just feel like ripping my brain off because I can’t deal with the rest. Girls who run with the wolves aren’t for boys to love, I get it, but where the fuck do I go now? Am I supposed to be wasting my youth doing nothing because I literally can’t do anything else? Do you know how much I hate it when people tell me they’re worried about my wellbeing? Since when did I become unable to take care of myself because I’m fucking depressed, not fucking tumblr-teenage depressed, but fucking clinical-I-can’t-sleep-without-pills depressed? How did I get shit piled up and fail to take care of anything and hate myself again?? Why is my dream and waking life all vivid night terrors? Shouldn’t I be getting a slap to wake up from this??
Even at your worst, you are fucking incredible.
Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.