Pass me the bucket.

Sometimes days are hard. And all you can do to get through them is drink alcohol until you’re so drunk, you can’t type properly. Thank fuck for autocorrect because without it, this wouldn’t make sense.

Depression makes you think that everything is your fault. That every little thing you do or say, every action is your responsibility. The way others feel, is a direct result of how you’vevtreated or spoke to them, disregarding how they make you feel.

I should know. I’ve loved someone, since around September last year, who doesn’t love me back. I try. But I know it’s futile. I can’t make someone love me.

Despite how much love I have for him, how much I care and I want him to be happy, I’m the one who’s happiness is the least important because that’s how it works. I meet someone, I fall in love, I give everything but it’s not enough. It never is. And the he goes off and meets the love of his life.

So I’ve had a drink. So fucking what. I’m lonely. I love someone who doesn’t love me back. Do you know how heartbreaking that is?

@specsygurl

Fuck this shit.

I write this from the edge. The edge of madness. All I can do to ease the pain is drink. The only thing that numbs the pain but even now, after a bottle of gin, I find myself in the most extraordinary pain that can’t relived.

I’ve never felt good enough. Always been the one who’s left in the corner at the end of the disco. Always picked last for any team and always the one who texts first.

I’m done with it. Done with being second best. Done with being the charity case. Done with being the one who waits all the time.

I’m nothing special. I know that. There is no place in this world for me anymore.

Beating your own head

Ever feel like giving up? Like all the effort you put into trying to be the best person, but only to appease someone else, just isn’t working? All that effort to try and make someone love you. Why? Why do it? You’ll never make someone love you. They either do or they don’t.

I keep telling myself I’m going to stop, going cut myself off. But it’s like cutting off my oxygen supply, except this oxygen is poisonous. You need it to breathe, but it’s slowly killing you. Slowly killing your soul, with its toxicity. So what do you do?

You can’t breathe either way.