I realize when I think about my life in the future, that I don’t even think about anything past 60 (which may be normal). I don’t want to live to an old age. Especially with chronic health problems. And the way my brain functions (or doesn’t function).

Life will always be a struggle with me. Regardless of how many stressors are or are not in my life, no matter how ‘good’ things may go, it all feels like a mountain to climb, to appear like a functional adult like most other people. But even when I’m happy and having a ton of fun, there’s still this underlying depression, disillusionment and general apathy under the metaphorical carpet that is my life. It’s like the smell of cat pee which is so hard to get rid of even after you clean (multiple times). And then it feels like it’s a part of your identity.

And I wonder if people generally go to bed and wake up in the morning ready for whatever comes. I wake up after not enough sleep, and feel slightly disappointed that I did. It takes so much effort to get out of bed and shower, and then get out of my shower and put myself together.

When will I have a spring in my step? When will I feel super excited about whatever may come? Will I ever want to date someone again and let them into my life and soul and thoughts? Will I ever be able to accept compliments when I get them? Will I ever feel like I’m more than an inconvenience and pity friend and convince myself that people who care about me won’t be disappointed in me and bounce as soon as I do something wrong?


Perhaps, the problem is not the intensity of your love, but the quality of the people you are loving.

I pass by people, grazing them on the edges, and it bothers me. I’ve got to admire someone to really like them deeply.” – Sylvia Plath, Unabridged Journals 

Yes. all of this. *Especially* the middle paragraph. You don’t have to lie to me. That bugs me more than whatever questionably morally corrupt thing you may have done.

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