Why

June 30th, 2011 by ThatPsychoBitch

Please excuse typos and such… I have a headache. >_o

I am in love, yes…

Even though through the past week I shivered every time I said “I love you too”?

I think I have a fever right now, so, I’m not sure if it’s my imagination.

He has xanax because he used to have anxiety issues… They’re the strongest ones you can get.

I’m not making jokes about taking them all because I’m depressed. It’s because I’m sick of living… It’s not that I *want* to die, it’s that I just don’t want to live anymore.

I can’t leave him, I never will. I love it when he’s being an adorable goof ball… But he can be such an ass at times. He’s not very bright, and (being a bitch) his stupidity can annoy the hell out of me.

I just can’t stand our fights anymore… The way he doesn’t know how to handle my depression…

I don’t see my therapist as often as I should for severe depression, I *need* to see her every 2 weeks but end up seeing her once every 1-2 months…

I’m tired of taking my medication, it doesn’t feel like it’s doing anything– other than my night meds that put me to sleep…. But then give me fucked up dreams about the secretly pedophile teacher that I *had* to have a crush on way back in 7th grade (One of the worst years of my life) that decided he finally wanted me the second I’m engaged and living with a guy.

Well, fuck him… I wasn’t wearing a lolita dress for YOU that day, Mr. Choir Teacher. Considering I didn’t even know you’d be at MY highschool. It was “Beauty and the Geek day” unfortunately for me, the only pretty things I have are lolita dresses. Normal teachers don’t normally say “You look great”, look up and down their former student’s body, smirk, and then later tell her that she should still hang out with you because she shouldn’t “let ANOTHER man” tell her what to do.

What?

*Another* man? Like you can tell me what to do? My fiance’s not jealous of the way I used to “like” you, he was pissed because he could tell that you’re a perv. There’s a reason why I can’t stand being around older men that I don’t live with.

I’m afraid of the sun, I’m afraid of old men, I’m afraid of being alone, I’m afraid of everything.

Kittens make me cry, and I look through pictures of them when I’m sad.

I’m not normal, I’m proud of that… Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt when you pick on me.

I’m a bitch because I am straight forward, don’t sugar coat shit, don’t let people push me around, and will punch you in the face if you deserve it.

Yet, I will sit there and lend you an ear and save you from wanting to kill yourself. I’ve been there too, and I currently am. Everyone I save turns around and calls me a bitch in the end when I’ve treated you the same way I’ve always treated you.

My boyfriend blames a lot on me, big things and small things, even the small things kill me now. One thing I never felt when I talked to my therapist about my depression was GUILT– now? EVERYTHING is my fault. From losing a power cord to the xbox to world hunger. Somehow, I, or he, will find a reason for it to be my fault.

Most of this may not make sense to you, the reader, it’s just a rant/drabble… But, you may have been in the same boat. Who knows?

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One Response to “Why”

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  1. I’m a fucking bitcch too. I’ve got a divided family cos I’m a fucking arsehole and a cunt who likes to tell the truth and yes I like to be upfront and all. Fuck the sooky little impotent things who think honesty is wrong. They’re as limp and sook as a soft um, after it’s done.

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