I hate my body.
I hate that I am not taking care of it.
I’m too lazy.
I hate that too.
I hate that my mind is trapped.
I hate the anxiety at just the mere thought of existing.
I hate stupid shit just staring me in the face.
I hate that it’s easy as hell
And I just sit there…
Has nothing on me.
Guilt, fear, frustration, anger…
I don’t just need pills.
I need therapy.
I need God.
I need freedom.
I need an education.
No, not high school.
A “real” one.
I’m tired of pretentious pricks.
I’m tired of people downplaying what I know to be true.
Putting me in a box so they don’t have to deal with it.
Do I honestly have to exaggerate that bad for you to fucking get it?
Stop here if you’re over it.
Or enter at your own risk.
Welcome to bipolar disorder.
Welcome to anxiety.
Welcome to wanting to punch something.
Welcome to screaming into a pillow.
But let’s face it.
That doesn’t really work.
Welcome to small town ignorance.
Everyone goes through it…
Take deep breaths…
You know what?
Go fuck yourself.
Always holding it in.
Thank you for fixing me!
Just like that.
What a doctor you are!
Self taught I take it?
I would have never figured it out!
I’m not fine.
Stop telling me that I am.
Don’t talk to me.
Don’t look at me.
Don’t come near me.
Don’t psychoanalyze me.
If you were in my mind right now.
If you really knew what you were talking about.
You would run.
You would fucking run.
Never enough at this party!
And at the end of the day.
You know who cares about this shit?
No one actually cares.
Get over it.
Always making a big deal out of nothing.
You don’t really feel that way.
You make yourself feel that way.
You will your shit into existence.
Given you’re so damn lazy.
It’s a wonder you have any will at all.
Funny how you work so hard at your bullshit.
Too bad you can’t pour that into something productive.
*Cue the longest internal scream that will never escape my lips*
All good now.
It was nothing.
It was just…
Now let’s wash the dishes.