there have been lots of times when i have been depressed, i cry sometimes. like uncontrolably for hours, but that hasnt happened in a while. i usually do that when i know no one can hear me, because i dont think they would really get it. like most people i know they turn around and go “well you have it a lot better than some.” my best friend, and in some ways my only friend called me a spoilt bratt, when i was depressed on monday.  thats why i  dont trust her enough to talk to her, thats why i’m here.

i dont sound all “woe is me” because i am very aware that i have it better than some people. but that doenst stop me from feeling the menoncolia ( proberbly not how its spelt) most times. 

other times i opt for different ways, when its not possible to cry – i hit myself, i get bruises for that, i cut myself, but the problem with that is it bleeds and you have to sort all the mess out, and i cant be dealing with that. i used to scratch myself, i hate my legs, i’ve always thought they were too big, (i’m size uk8, so thats always been ignored by most people) and i used to scratch the hell out of them.  now i’ve taken to buring my self with lighters, above my ancle. it sounds like a stupid thing to do, but the pain puts a lot of things into perspective. ( i dont listen to MCR by the way. not that theres anything wrong with that, blah blah blah).

yesterday, friday night, i was working.  the guy i work with, he owns the pub, and he also does the cooking (he calls himself a chef, but he has no qualifications). hes an arse.  he’s impatient, impolite and the most irrational peorson i have ever met. hes completely horrible, he knows i’m easily affended, and that i have quite low self esttem, so he just pushes it until i get really upset.  then he can go all “ooo, whos moody!?!” at me. i have to deal with him then going on about how useless i am, about how instead of telling me what to do, he’ll write and send a letter – that’ll be quicker. although, bless him, i doubt the brute could write.  its not a terribly big thing, but it is hatefull when you have to deal with it on a regular basis. i doubt its worth £3.50 an hour.

he usually takes me home after i finish work, (my mum and dad know him), he didnt last night because i didnt want to go woth him, so i walked 3 miles home insead.  at 9:30 at night.  i’m a little worried about going in today, by the time anyones read this, i proberbly will have either gone there, or be there.  so thats ok.  but he’ll proberbly be making my time hell, cos he was working all through the night, and he was drunk. and i hate drunk people.

i still havn’t taken any of the sertraline, ‘cos, to be honest, i’m a little scared of what will happen. 

i’m not sure if there was any real point to this post, sorry. i just had to get it out. i thought he was the reason i was feelling depressed latley, but i dont think he is.  i don’t think its work related at all. i mean at most it’s proberbly just an anoyance.  i mean, is it possible to be depressed for no reason? am i just a spoilt brat? proberbly.