At this point, I feel like I've reached the end of my life. The end of my happiness. The beginning of eternal humiliation and contempt. And it's all my fault.
I'm so exhausted. I've been filled with anxiety, paranoia, self-insecurity over EVERYTHING for the past few months and it has gotten way out of hand. I'm praying now that Auntie Pacita and Auntie Virginia can get rid of whatever is gripping me so tight.
I've given up so many times. I'm weak and lazy I'll admit. I don't want to do anything. This is too much for me to handle on my own. Mama says this isn't me. It feels like me, but it can't be. She has to be right. I pray that all of this will go away soon.
I hate my body, I hate how my legs are muscular and fat, I hate how I can never pull off the clothes I want, I hate my face, I hate my acne, I hate how one side of my face is slightly slanted, I hate how chubby my cheeks are, I hate my hair, I hate it when it's down, I hate it in a bun, I hate how I'm so insecure, I hate how I'm embarrassed to leave the house, I hate that I can't make this go away, I hate that it's been this long
I just woke up feeling lighter than I had in months. I hope this lasts.
I just watched a movie I liked and then read all the criticism about it's insensitive treatment of topics. All the complaints make sense, but I don't know how to feel. Guilty because I enjoyed content at others' expense? Gullible because I didn't realize the implications of what I watched? Annoyed because I just want to, for once, enjoy something without feeling like I need to examine it? The older I get, the more I realize that you can never do anything right. I'm frustrated because I don't know what's right. I sway with the crowd, lacking my own ground. All this indecision makes me feel weak. I have nothing to fight for because I don't know what I'm fighting for. I'm lacking passion. I feel completely empty.
I'm here again wanting to fix my body for good so I can finally move on with my life. It always comes back to me having physical insecurities that cause internal ones that perpetuate the physical ones. I'm so completely sick of myself at this point. I don't want to leave the house. I don't want to meet up with people. I don't want to do anything. I feel like a complete failure in all respects of who I am.
If I can ever get out of this depression successfully, if I can ever genuinely love myself again, then I'll truly believe in miracles.
It's like I'm full of wrong thoughts, decisions, feelings, and I'm going to forever be so what's the point in trying
all the magic is gone, life has never been this black and meaningless
I'm the one to blame because all of this wrong is me
I'm just waiting for nothing but more hurt
I had a breakdown last night.
Today I woke up and have little wins to count:
All I can do right now is pray.
"Sometimes when we think we're opening up, we're actually falling apart."
"I'm afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are."