The truest I've ever been with myself. I like to write to cope with my issues, and yesterday I broke down after realizing I don't really have anybody to be real with, because I've never been real.

For your wellbeing, just know I'm currently seeking professional counseling or therapy to try and find support. This is just the ramblings of yesterday's me who was hurting, because being real and reaching out hurts more than you think.

My ramblings start here:

I'm in my bad, crying. I don't even know why, but I can't stop. I contacted a mental health support line to try to reach out, instead I got referred to therapy that I can't afford with a doctor who sees 100 patients in worse shape than me and if I saw him and he saw me I fear he wouldn't look twice. It fucking hurts, knowing that the only people you can count on are hollow husks. I can't talk to them about this because if I ever did they'd never look at me the same again. I spent a whole hour just deciding if it was a good idea to reach out, and when I did I got brushed off and thrown on someone else's plate. I don't even feel like a person, just a number. I wish I could just fucking cry, all day, and not have to be around anyone, and not feel judged, and not wake up for a whole day and maybe that'd fix my problems. But it won't. It won't, and it sucks and I've never felt worse than when I confronted that feeling where everything feels shit and trying to reach out makes you feel worse. I just want to find somebody whose shoulder I can cry on for 100 hours and not have to worry about how they'll look at me later, and maybe it'd all be back to normal in the morning. I'm not ready to leave everything but I can't carry everything with me and I can't ask someone else to help me carry it, so I just get crushed under the weight of my own desicions. I get the bad hand in the game rigged against me, so should I just not even play? It feels stupid to even try when I have no fallback.

Stories in the same category