I didn’t think I was going to write anything today. I thought I was going to be productive. I thought that today was a fresh start.
I convince myself that everyday is a fresh start, yet I feel nothing fresh about it.
I always wake up to the same fate. Knowing that no matter how positive I try to be, I’ll always be brought down by my inescapable problems.
I didn’t want to talk about this. I was feeling so good just a couple of minutes ago.
Now I’m a mess. Relying on the movement of my fingers and the chewing of gum to keep me from giving into the unbearable thoughts that claw at my eyes while I’m alone.
I didn’t want to appear as this type of person. When I read other people’s blogs or watch other people’s videos, I do not find insight about their mental health interesting in any way. In fact, I feel that many people who talk about their mental illnesses online claim that they share because they want to raise awareness or help other’s who are going through a similar situation, but actually deep down they bask in the idea that people are pitying them. That they feel good when they receive the positive attention that they secretly feel they need from others.
Therefore, I really shouldn’t be talking about something that no one wants to know – let alone something that I do not want to share with the unkind world of the internet.
I probably will never spill the full story of what I am going through. I don’t like to talk about my feelings. I guess I’m too proud to admit to anything.
But what I will say is that it does not even compare to the common depression and anxiety that is circulating first world countries in our day and age.
I wouldn’t wish what I have on my worst enemy. But I would wish it upon my parents. Just for a month or two. So they get a glimpse of the pain that I went through last year, and the effects that neglectful and hate filled behaviour has on a person who is in need.
On a lighter note, It’s my birthday on Wednesday.
On a darker note, I’m turning 20.
I can no longer blame bad behaviour on teenage hormones. I’m an adult. And from Wednesday, I’ll be starting my journey through my 20’s. Until I turn 3o. Can’t wait for that.
I’ll probably cry all day. That’s what I did when I turned 13 and 18. What a happy life I lead.
I promise I’m not like this in real life.
Well, I am. Because this is real life.
But what I mean is that if you were to meet me, you would never guess that I was the person responsible for writing these dark insights.
I’m forever wearing a bubbly and happy mask, forever telling others that life will get better, when I myself am disintegrating inside.
That’s enough complaining for tonight. I’ll try and actually get round to posting something with structure soon.
I’m off to make some chocolate milk.
Have a good night.