Wish I was dead again.
Also wanna note. Well, doesn’t really matter.
I don’t put these things up every time I want to kill myself or am depressed.
My whole thing would be these posts if I did & I tend to not want to, because it seems like I’m just a “whiny little bitch wanting attention”.
But it’s still nice, to be able to post this, I guess. Sometimes.
There’s an intense fear when posting these, though.
Will someone Like it, Reblog it, Reply to it, Message me about it, Harass me about it, etc. So far I’ve only had 1 message & it was a bit of a fail.
Depression. It’s like jelly on a sandwich, it pretends to be spread out evenly throughout the day, or looks like it’s stable, but then it fucking spills over the sides. Into the morning or night, or at the dinner table or the depression would hit you randomly when you’re reading a deep book. One second you’re fine, then another you are overwhelmed. And you’re like “Fucking shit man!” And try to wipe yourself clean with a napkin, which would be like listening to music or anything to take your mind off it, but your hands are still sticky, it doesn’t work, it stays with you. Until you scrub your hands with soap. I guess that would be the medication & therapy (if they end up working). And it’s not like you can be like “Hey, I just won’t eat jelly sandwiches” because your body has this uncontrollable urge for it. It can’t help it. It would go on its own & keep feeding you these damn jelly sandwiches, no matter how sick of them you were. So it’d be a cycle of force fed depression by your own body. Fucked up.