“Fly”- Another Attempt At Capturing Depression.

Hotlines are at the end of the post along with some hugs, take care. This is bad poetry attempt #3 trying to capture what it feels like to have Depression, where you see everyone else is flying and telling you to fly, but you look at yourself only to realize you don’t have any wings. Hope it isn’t too shit xD

They say you’re healing

But you’re just getting hurt.

They say you’re learning, but

You’re just getting burnt.

They say you’re only human and it’s okay

But they’ve got wings, you don’t.

They say “you could fly if you want to”

& you keep trying

but you don’t want to.

Living feels more like a lie when you’re me

They say to stop yourself from drowning

when you just can’t breathe.

They tell you you’re alive when you’re choking

’cause they just can’t see..

They don’t even have to try.

They’re not like me, darling they can fly.

Having faith, to me, is laced with fear

And fantasies are full of fleeting dreams

and nothing’s as it seems

they tell me I’m crazy;

I agree.

They can fly, and they can’t understand me.

Thank you for reading! wanna check out more rants and weird attempts at poems and musings? My blog is open, and if you’re nice I’ll hand outimages (5) cookies xD Anyways, if you’re currently struggling with depression and are feeling alone, take this free hug (click here and here and here for cute GIF s that send hugs from me to you ^^)and also a few hotlines, just in case.

Vent to an anonymous stranger- https://www.7cups.com

In case you’re feeling suicidal- http://suicide.org/

Hotlines for Depression specifically- http://addiction.lovetoknow.com/wiki/Depression_Hotlines

Things I Wish They Told Me About Recovery

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Trigger Warning- I’ll be discussing self harm and depression recovery in this post. If you’re easily triggered, you might want to skip to the last paragraph of this post, where I’ve got cookies, hug GIFs, and hotlines, take care! ❤ 

Well, I’ve had myself caught up in the whirlpool called recovery for quite a few months now. I’m almost six months clean now, and it feels like a bittersweet trophy to house in my head. I’ve learnt a lot, lost a lot, and overall I’m still trying to convince myself that choosing recovery was a choice that would put me on the right track. Entering the experience, though, there were so many things I was unaware of. Looking back at the person I was before recovery , (y’know, broken and sad and constantly crying and collapsing in on herself? yeah,  her. I don’t identity as much  with her anymore.)  I realize that there were so many things I had no idea about when getting into recovering. I realize how sadly misinformed I was before strapping myself in for the roller coaster that was recovery. I can’t say I look back at making the commitment to recovery with no regrets, but I will say that over time my sounds have started to slowly heal, and for that I am grateful. So, without further yippity yap (yes I just made up a word) here’s a few things I wish I knew before I started the journey to recovery.

  1. The road seems endless, and it’s so much longer than you thought. If you thought recovery road looked  impossibly long before you started the marathon, you’re in for an even nastier surprise- it’s so much longer. I thought the road to recovery was impossibly long even before I started to recover. I realized, around 5000 obstacles, trips, and turns too late, that the road is much longer than it looks. It will test you and trip you up, and you will push your limits to find that you limits push back. Does it sound scary? Well, there never was anything easy about recovery. Even the decision to recover is one that is hard to make. Recovery, especially from self harm, means that you are battling your demons head on, which is often the very thing you were running away from. It means facing up to your addiction and fighting countless battles in an attempt to win a war, all while you go on with your daily life.  The already long road is made longer by your attitude to taking on the marathon, and eventually there will come a point where even those of the strongest emotional willpower will find themselves having a shitty attitude towards recovery. I will admit, I was skeptical about my recovery as well, and my attitude towards recover made the whole thing so much more goddamn difficult. Now, I’m trying to change the way I look at recovery, and that starts with my conscious mind. While I can’t help that sometimes I dream that I didn’t throw my blades down the sink,  can control the way I consciously think about relapse and self harm. I’m really trying to be as strong as I can be, and I think I can slowly see the climb to recovery as one that’s become less torturous and more rewarding. It takes time to heal this, but now the way I’m approaching my battle is so much more helpful. If me from a year ago read this, I’d roll my eyes at myself. It took me time to realize that everyone who gave me cliched advice about recovery had a point.
  2. It’s a 24/7 commitment. I know, this is one that seems obvious, but I overlooked how much of a commitment recovery really is. (hint: it’s a huge one) To be honest, it struck me so hard that I can’t just ‘take a break’ from recovering. Whether I’m asleep, awake, crying, laughing, angry, doing nothing or being incredibly busy, I would not stop being in a state of recovery. In a way, it was like a persistent empty check box on my mental to-do list of all the shit I’ve gotta do to pull myself back together. It’s not really a check box that will just leave, either. It will always be around, and one you’ve committed to recovery you will always be recovering.  I can only imagine how obvious all of this may seem to anyone who has never had the experience, but I guess if you know what this is like you’ll understand what I’m trying to say over here. I wish somebody told me that recovery is more of a commitment than I ever thought it would be.
  3. It involves guilt, lots of it. Yep, I said it. You shouldn’t ever feel guilty for putting yourself first (self care for the win!) but that’s not the kind of guilt I’m referring to. I’m talking about the burning guilt I feel, even now, when I look back to a week ago where I had a breakdown and tried to smash the blade out of my sharpener just because I needed something to harm myself with. I also feel guilty because a week ago, I discovered that kitchen knives are much more blunt than they look. Oops. That’s right, Internet, I almost relapsed and I’m a crazy fucking psycho because I decided those sharp, big-ass kitchen knives were not as vicious as they look. I stuck around to discover how sharp they were, because I get crazy, (I am crazy sometimes) not to mention crazy guilty later. I feel so guilty typing that and admitting that I have my moments of weakness where I feel like I needed a blade to get through. I’ll always be guilty about relapse and about how somewhere deep inside my twisted brain, I wish I could still run to the safety of the blade. About how much I still think about going down the dark route. Even thinking about relapse makes me guilty, and all of a sudden things started to take a turn for the worst in ways I didn’t see coming. My boyfriend could literally kiss my scars (read a post about that here if you want a clearer picture on the relationship between kisses ad self harm scars) and I’d feel guilty. I always feel like by being weak and having my weak spots I’m doing a dis-service to the people who love me. My self harm took an emotional toll on the people that are close to me. I remember my friend telling me I was underestimating how much my relapse had impacted everyone close to me, and how my boyfriend had tears in his eyes when he realized I relapsed. All I feel looking back is burning guilt that scorches down to my soul and rubs it raw. Even now, it makes me feel selfish. I couldn’t even be strong enough to resist relapse. I was selfish enough to disregard the emotional cost my relapse would entail, one that would have to be payed by people who loved me and cared about me. People were getting hurt by being close to me, all because I couldn’t control myself. That’s the kind of guilt that came with recovery, and it felt and still feels pretty bad. Nobody warned me about the guilt that came with having a support system. I’m so incredibly lucky to have a amazing support system with amazing people, and honestly I couldn’t have imagined that they’d be a source of guilt. That being said, if you learn to handle that guilt properly it can actually be quit useful– some people would possibly let the guilt break them down, and it’s easy to see how that could happen, or at the very least let the guilt bruise them, or cause their beings to collapse. When the guilt came flooding in, it wrecked my walls. It’s easy when you’re in the vulnerable state of recovery, to just let the guilt drown you. With me however (while I won’t pretend that I didn’t have weak moments) I somehow learnt to use the guilt to motivate me, because I knew the guilt came from a good place. I wanted to get better, and I was guilty because I couldn’t. I slowly learned to be patient with myself ad to not feel guilty for making such slow progress. Rememberforward is forward. We all have our own pace, you should never feel guilty for not being able to scale a mountain in one day, sometimes molehills are huge enough to climb as it is. Believe me, I know. ❤
  4. You will have emotional ‘explosions’. More than you thought you would. Seriously, the amount of emotional explosions I’ve had were shocking to me. I’d find myself crying for very small things, like an argument with my mom which I would’ve otherwise been indifferent to. My explanation for this was that the bigger things had been building up so much, and I had to vent out my anger and frustration through the smaller things. The smaller things began knocking me down because I was privately fighting a much bigger battle, silently trying to fight a raging fire inside of me. As a result, there were a few weeks where I’d just get super emotional over everything simply because I was mentally begging for release, the kind of release I used to get from self harm. The midnight crying sessions were exhausting and lonely. I felt like a freak for constantly exploding, as though I  couldn’t keep anything in if I tired. While I’ve been recovering, I’ve been predictably vulnerable. Like a feather, I felt as though the slightest emotional wind was enough to knock me down. I’m slowly trying to get over this. To stop over analyzing, start getting stronger and coping with things healthily. It will be tough (Rome wasn’t built in a day!) but  guess what? I’ve learnt that recovery is about gradually regaining that emotional strength so that you’ll stop needing to turn to  the blade every time you want some validation. You’ve got to learn to be patient with yourself. Let yourself cry over stupid things, let yourself get emotional.. Give yourself time to feel things and go through the emotions, because this is recovery and you will make it eventually, just be patient and know that these times won’t last. So, to anyone who’s new to the whole recovery thing- expect some outbursts. They don’t make you weak, I promise. They just make you human.

For me, the hardest part of recovery is needing to find a different coping mechanism apart from self harm whenever I’m emotionally overwhelmed and feeling low. Y’know, for those nights you have where you just can’t take it anymore? Yeah, those. I found it so tough to cope with those in a more.. well, healthy manner. (anyone who’s experienced depression will know what I’m talking about, it’s pretty brutal and emotionally intense). When I’m overcome by these emotions in this manner (click here to check out a post I wrote on how it’s like at night for a person with depression if you want a clearer picture) it’s hard not to turn to my blades as a solution. It is hard to slap myself in the face with cold, hard, reality, and tell myself to stop thinking those thoughts.

While recovery is undeniably scary, here’s the last thing I wish somebody told me about recovery…

6. It’s 100% worth it. YOU ARE WORTH IT.

That’s right, you’re 100% worth the ride to recovery, and it may seem scary (I apologize if I’m making it sound super scary) but it is a step towards a better life for you. Recovery’s  a challenge that I know you can face and you will kick ass at it eventually. Will you slip up a few times? Yes. Take a few wrong turns? Yes. You’ll make mistakes and learn while you recover, and sometimes it’ll feel more like a punishment than like healing, but it’s something that will make you a much better person in the end. You will be stronger, happier, healthier, and you’re going to look in the mirror and finally like what’s looking back at you. You’ve got to hurt in order to heal, and recovery is allowing yourself to acknowledge the negativity and deal with it in a way that leaves you stronger. You’re amazing, and you can recover. We can images (2)recover.

Thank you for reading! wanna check out more rants and weird attempts at poems and musings? My blog is open, and if you’re nice I’ll hand out cookies xD Anyways, if you’re currently struggling with depression and are feeling alone, take this free hug (click here and here and here for cute GIF s that send hugs from me to you ^^) and also a few hotlines, just in case.

Vent to an anonymous stranger- https://www.7cups.com

In case you’re feeling suicidal- http://suicide.org/

Hotlines for Depression specifically- http://addiction.lovetoknow.com/wiki/Depression_Hotlines

Do I Bend, Or Do I Break?

~just in case you need them, there are emergency hotlines at the end of this post, take care.~

The title of this post is probably extremely cryptic, just like my other posts. Because I’m Queertastic, which means I’m overly emotional, loud, a feed spammer, and someone who just can’t keep their thoughts to themselves, even if they try. Well, I’ve been contemplating over whether or not I should break up with my wonderfully twisted boyfriend, or whether I should just adjust, and get this to work. Background information– he’s moving to UK in a few months, I think he’s got a double personality, (read about that over here, the situation is more messed up than you’d think lol) and my friends and parents don’t approve of him, to put it in a polite way, i.e. they think he’s an asshole and don’t know what I see in him and why I’m with him. Hey, I can’t help being in love, can I? I usually come to this blog when I need to hear myself, sit with my thoughts, take my own advice. So, be prepared for a rant.  A huge rant that will likely get emotional. Ready for a stereo-typically whiny 15 year old teenager’s blog post? Yeah, me neither. Let’s do this, Internet.

I’ve been thinking about breaking up with him for a disproportionately long time now, which should possibly be my first red flag, right? He’s leaving, and while I want to believe that he’s The One, I think I know what I really am, and that’s a clueless and infatuated teenager. I’m not stupid enough to be oblivious of the cold, hard, facts. But I am, however, idiotic enough to be in an almost insane denial about it. I want him to be the one so badly it hurts. I want him, because I love him, and I can’t accept that there would be anyone who’d ever love me like him. That there won’t be anyone I’ll love as much as him.  I’m afraid I’ll never find anyone else, and it’s terrifying even to contemplate being without him after over a year of being with him. I can’t imagine not having anyone to tell me they love me, not having anyone to tell me I’m beautiful, not having anyone to make out with whenever I want. Yes, that’s one of my lame reasons for not wanting to leave him. There’s another reason I don’t want to leave him- one that sort of hurts my ego to admit, but here goes. I love him and I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to hurt myself either. It will already be a blow to be without him. He’s not just my boyfriend, he’s my super amazing friend. There’s no way I’ll salvage the friendship if we break up. It’ll be a double blow because I will be hurting him. When he’s hurt, I’m hurt. That’s how love works, right? at least, that’s how it works with me. Because ouch, I don’t want to see him sad. I don’t want to see him sad because of me. Mostly, it’s because I want this to work. I love him, shouldn’t that be enough? I despise having to overthink things, y’know? It feels wrong to overthink my emotions, but hey, if I didn’t overthink I wouldn’t have this blog xD I don’t want him to leave and I don’t want him to leave on my account. I can’t hurt him, I can’t leave him, and this decision will hurt me. That’s my most selfish reason to stay in this relationship- it will break me. I don’t want to put myself through the turmoil of moving on, letting go, forgiving and forgetting. I don’t want to have lonely nights, I don’t want to not have any arms to run to whenever I can. I don’t want to have nobody to hold me when I’m down. I don’t want to dismiss the forehead kisses which make me weak in the knees. Gosh, I just don’t want to, and most of the reasons why I don’t want to are selfish. I’m sorry.

That being said, sometimes I think it’s best. He’s leaving, far far away. We’re going to try and keep the relationship, but, as I said before, I don’t think he’s the one. And if he isn’t the one, it’s going to end eventually. To me, it’s a logical conclusion that it will hurt less to break up now than to drag it out. I don’t want to wait until things go incredibly wrong and I have to violently disentangle myself from the fully fledged emotional hurricane. Maybe I should stop this while it’s still a thunderstorm, if you get what I mean. All my friends hate him, and he’s apparently a total bully when he’s not around me. When they describe his personality when he’s not around me, I don’t recognize the guy I fell in love with. To me, that’s a major problem that I’ve been ignoring. This relationship, and the main dynamics behind this relationship are some of the ones which bother me and effect me the most. I am most bothered by all the lying that goes behind this relationship. On one level, I feel as though I shouldn’t have to lie to be with him, I mean, it’s love, right? On a wholly different level, I think that there’s meaning behind the proverbs “if you don’t want anyone to find out you did it, don’t do it” and “if you have to hide it, you shouldn’t be doing it”. Who should I be trusting more, the people I’ve known for ages, or him? One side of me says: this is blinding love, don’t be stupid. The more whimsical side (which is starting to create some real problems for me) charmingly whispers: it’s love, you’re supposed to be blinded. Honestly, I think I’m being blinded ’cause this is my first time falling in love (here’s an embarrassing rant on it). I hate having to lie to my parents about my relationship, it makes me feel like I’m a bad daughter, and that is a clear indication that the relationship is having major negative emotional effects on me. Sure, he’s around to silence the screaming and screeching guilt, and he’s always there to but a band-aid on my insecurity about being a horrible daughter, (think about it- ex self harmer in recovery, too egoistic to apologize, bisexual, secretly dating, I’m every parent’s nightmare and they deserve less of a train wreck) but he’s kind of the reason why I feel like I’m a bad daughter. Total conflict of interests here… it sucks. I feel like I’m putting a permanent relationship on the line, the one with my parents, for one which I’m almost 100% sure is going to end at some point, if not in the immediate future. I guess to an outside the answer seems more logical, but to me breaking up would be harder than anything I’ve ever done.

To be honest, I don’t think I would beak up with him, even if it’s the better course. I love him, and I’d like to believe he’s an awesome person and a wonderful guy, but as one of my friends said “you’re in love with a side of him that’s dead to everyone else. He’s a douche bag to everyone, but you.” I’ll admit its slightly selfish to hold onto him simply because I need him, but I do. It’s slightly insane to hold on because in my wildest dreams, it’s him that I want to be with for a long time. I know it might be the first-love euphoria, but I can’t help it. Maybe I should be stronger, and take a temporary blow for a potentially happier future. Maybe I don’t realize that he’s bad for me and I can’t see it because I can’t imagine a life without him loving him. It’s because I love being loved and I can’t stop loving him, at least it feels like that. It feels like I’ll never move on, but I’m being foolishly blind to the fact that it’s going to end and I’m going to have to move on at some point.

tl;dr – I don’t know whether I should bend with our relationship, or break it. I’m undecided.

Thank you for reading! wanna check out more rants and weird attempts at poems and musings? My blog is open, and if you’re nice I’ll hand out cookies xD Anyways, if you’re currently struggling with depression and are feeling alone, take this free hug (click here and here and here for cute GIF s that send hugs from me to you ^^) and also a few hotlines, just in case.

Vent to an anonymous stranger- https://www.7cups.com

In case you’re feeling suicidal- http://suicide.org/

Hotlines for Depression specifically- http://addiction.lovetoknow.com/wiki/Depression_Hotlines

 

Depression Is Not A One Night Stand.

sad-depressed-quote-quotes-Favim.com-1999364trigger warning- this is a descriptive about nights with depression. If you are easily triggered, you may want to not read this, and if you are currently feeling extra low, maybe skip to the last paragraph where I’ve inserted cookies, hugs, and hotlines. Take care.<3

I remember the initial butterfly kisses that the shadows left, almost daintily, on my fragile shoulders the first few nights. The coaxing voice of my Depression, lurking somewhere in the big, vast  howling tavern of nothing. I can vaguely remember my attempts to run away from the twistedly alluring call of Depression. I remember the night it let itself into my mind, where I began what I thought was a one night stand- only to realize my Depression would follow me around like an uncontrollable plague.

Since then, I’ve had countless different types of nights. Some nights, I get the grace of sleep. Where my emotions of sadness are so overwhelming that my mind gets tired. These are the nights where I don’t sleep feeling safe or happy, but I sleep with the want to escape, shut myself down. These are the nights where I feel like my body is trying to hibernate, only to realize in the morning that it has not stopped resisting, it has not stopped its foolish insistence on fiercely continuing to exist. These are the nights that I recall like static, grey and insignificant as they orchestrate my painfully indifferent attitude to my own life. Then, there are the nights where the burdens on my shoulders weigh down on me like boulders, where my demons emerge out of the shadows, almost flirtatiously torturing my self-image. As though they are teasing me, they languidly float across the shadows, in and out of my mind, leaving a trail of sadness as they go. As the night passes, the demons get more and more excited, until they can’t stop exploring the deepest darkest corners of my mind. Suddenly, their trails of numbing sadness are replaced with something much more horrifying- fear. Coming out from the corners of my mind that I had been running away from. Fear of failing, fear of falling, fear that all good things will end. Every lie I’ve ever told, every lie that’s ever been told about me, every single mistake I’ve ever made, and every word I’ve ever spoken that’s come out wrong and misunderstood. Every single time I failed. The fear only worsens as it becomes pure and unadulterated, and I flood with these thoughts, these mistakes, these unanswered questions. I see Depression’s lips curled up into a smile. I know I should be stronger on these nights, but that simply isn’t something I can do. I know that on these nights I should try and look at all the times I’ve flown instead of fallen, but on these nights it seems as though I can only think the thoughts that Depression wants me to think. I can’t control the negativity, the emotions of hate and anger and unfounded resentment. Looking back on these horrible nights, I hate myself for not being stronger. For not being able to fight against my own thoughts.  The war in my mind is almost pathetic. But I can’t just be positive, and trust me I want to. I, more than anyone else, want to escape this hell I have created for myself, but it does not work that way, and it’s nights like these that remind me of that cruel reality.

There are the nights which I remember as a lucid buzz. They are faded and dusty, of no value or importance. I do not sleep on these nights, but you would hardly call the state I’m in awake. I’m simply there, and here’s one thing they won’t ever tell you about Depression- not only is it not a one night stand, it’s also overwhelmingly boring. Sometimes it is not in the mood for a passionate attack on your soul. Sometimes, it is simply in the mood to lurk around in the corner in a way that establishes its presence in a way that is specifically intrusive in a way that will bring you to your knees- it will not scream, but at the mere whisper of Depression, your mind will bend itself over and twist itself around as commanded. These nights are the ones where you are bored as fuck, but also alone and heavy. And what is your malicious lover, Depression, doing? It’s right there in the corner of your conscience, watching, but not speaking, because it does not want to intrude on the symphony of your misery that it so carefully commanded. The silence buzzes and hums in a monotone, and the numbness will stab in the most painful way possible. Your urge to get up, do something, anything, will be met with resistance from your mind and body. There won’t be any hysterical sobbing, because that’s hardly torture. There will be the choked up feeling of waiting to scream but not being able to. The feeling of watching yourself sink into grey and not being able to swim. You are drowning, and your gasps for air are somehow invisible. Perhaps everyone who is watching sees your desperate gasps for air as an exhale. Depression whispers a slightly different hypothesis- they see you, but they don’t care. These are the nights you have with Depression. A continual, misleading one night stand that has overstayed its welcome. Most nights are a mix of these, or just one exaggerated version of these. Depression isn’t a one night stand.

Thank you for reading! wanna check out more rants and weird attempts at poems and musings? My blog is open, and if you’re nice I’ll hand out cookies xD Anyways, if you’re currently struggling with depression and are feeling alone, take this free hug (click here and here and here for cute GIF s that send hugs from me to you ^^) and also a few hotlines, just in case.

Vent to an anonymous stranger- https://www.7cups.com

In case you’re feeling suicidal- http://suicide.org/

Hotlines for Depression specifically- http://addiction.lovetoknow.com/wiki/Depression_Hotlines

Too Toxic To Leave?

images

So, this is going to be a vent about this friendship I’ve been in which has been (constantly and almost consistently) toxic. I’ve been friends with this person for, wait for it, a whole seven, almost eight years. I’m 15. that’s inching dangerously towards spending more than half of my (admittedly short) life with her. And she’s started to become unbelievably toxic, and passive-aggressive, to the point where I don’t feel like confrontation will change anything. I’ve tried confrontation, and the results are either temporary or she dismisses it as me being a drama queen. While reading up on toxic relationships, I found the above picture. “Examine what you tolerate”. Great advice.

‘So, what have I been tolerating?’ That’s the immediate question that comes to mind, and the answer is vast and one that I couldn’t possibly rant about to anyone IRL- it’s something I think can only be captured in words that are written down, not spoken. I’ve never thought I did the whole speaking thing well, anyway.  I’ve been tolerating a certain degree of homophobia, unsupportiveness, having to shut myself up whenever they are around, and also just being put down and having passive aggressive jabs thrown at me.

She’s constantly telling me how much she hates my relationship. She won’t stop yapping about it, to the point where I’m like- okay, I get it, you hate my life choices, you’ve said it a trillion times.  It seems like she has to point it out all the time, to the point where I just give up. She’s also really unsupportive. I recently managed to have a conversation with my mom about me being Bisexual (!!!!) but I’ll save the details for a whole different post. Most of my other friends were pretty supportive about it. But for some reason I was afraid to tell her, simply because I didn’t expect support from her. I have never even received validation from her about my sexuality. She just said, and I quote, “obviously your mom wouldn’t take you seriously”. Gee, thanks. I don’t know why I told her, that was a stupid move because I can’t expect anything sympathetic from her at all.  It was stupid to expect an ‘I’m proud of you’ or even ‘at least you tried’.

To be honest, I’m just too tired to resist the toxicity of this friendship. Sure, when we have toxicfun, we have really good fun and she makes me feel like I matter, but when she’s playing he games with me it isn’t fun. In all our confrontations, she’s always managed to make me feel like the villain. Also, I feel like I can’t be me around her. The me I know loves giving hugs, loves posting silly selfies, is sensitive, and fangirls a lot. The me I am likes to be explicit about her emotions, likes to jump around and freak out when she’s excited. But just one eye-roll from her is enough to completely bog me down for the rest of the day. In fact, I’ve regretted almost everything I’ve ever shared with her. From the crushes to my self-harm, I’ve never received any support from her. She always twists it so that I’m the crazy one. So that the way I am is wrong. The last good fangirling session I had was forever ago, because when I’m around her I want to be the version of me that is approved by her, but that’s never enough. These days, I’ve been hanging out with people who aren’t her for a while, but she hates them too. There’s this girl I talk to who is just like me (a more exaggerated version of me) and this girl makes me really happy to talk to, but my ‘friend’ hates me for hanging out with her. Because I’m happier with her? What’s ironic is that my boyfriend, the one she detests, is always there for me when she isn’t. Who kissed my scars? Who told me he was proud when I came out to him? Who has always been around to cry on? He makes me feel more valid, worth it, and loved than she ever will. How ironic that to her, it’s my relationship with the guy I love that’s toxic. (this rant explains more xD)

I’ve friend who are way more awesome than her, and the more I think about it the more i realize the flood of relief I feel whenever she isn’t around.  Well, I’m going to be  girly girl and I’m going to like whatever I want to without giving a fuck about what she’ll think. That’s the best way forward, probably the only way forward.  It was just good to get off my chest, and I’ll probably keep updating this post whenever I need to rant.

Thanks for listening, Internet.

Thank you for reading! wanna check out more rants and weird attempts at poems and musings? My blog is open, and if you’re nice I’ll hand out cookies xD Anyways, if you’re currently struggling with depression and are feeling alone, take this free hug (click here and here and here for cute GIF s that send hugs from me to you ^^) and also a few hotlines, just in case.

Vent to an anonymous stranger- https://www.7cups.com

In case you’re feeling suicidal- http://suicide.org/

Hotlines for Depression specifically- http://addiction.lovetoknow.com/wiki/Depression_Hotlines