I need a space to throw out these feelings that are so quickly pulling me under. I try to turn to people in my life who might understand, but they all seem to be wading through their own piles of shit far deeper and wider than my own. What right do I have to ask them to stop and listen to me? Absolutely none.
My problems are petty and pointless. That bothers me more than the problems themselves.
You're just having a pity party. Man the fuck up.
Can the world send someone to beat the life out of me so I at least have a reason for this pain, please? Seriously you'd be doing me a favour.
I'm disgusting, stupid, ugly, whining, ignorant
but so what?
I'm alive, healthy, safe and loved. I Should be happy with that, RIGHT? So many people don't have these basic things.
But I'm not happy. I'm not even ok. It's utterly pathetic and I hate myself for it. Hate, despise, loathe. There aren't words strong enough.
You know what FUCK THIS.
Writing is pointless. I'm getting nowhere.
My life is pointless.