Done

Im just done. I tried being the nice guy. I did all the right things, said all the right bs, all to make everyone else happy. But you know what? I’m not happy. It ate away at me, piece by piece, until the only thing left was a walking corpse with my face. Every lie I told to keep everyone else safe. Taking all the blame, all the abuse and ridicule, all the punishment. I can’t do it anymore. Recovery is a lie that posterboys preach, a lie I’m done believing in. I’m depressed. I’m done trying to escape it, trying to treat it, trying to fix it. I’m done lying to myself that I’m getting better, that everythigs working out. It’s not. I’m done surpressing the side of me that just wants to die. The side of me that hates everything and everyone. I’m done pretending to be alright, cuz I’m not. I’m done. With life, with hope, with love and forgiveness. I’m done with myself and everyone else. I’m done with everything and everyone. I’m done being sober, I’m done being SI free. I’m done being good. I wouldnt change a thing even if I could, because this is my life now. I’d rather be depressed or dead than bullshitting my way through life. C’est la vie, adios mezzo mi, y es el fin.