It’s now an everyday struggle to get out of bed knowing that nothing out of my room is worth getting up for. I want to lose weight so i begin to starve. I don’t get out of bed anyways and so thats being to help me. I hate the fact that I’m on 20 different pills for the same fucking thing. I want to be in the arms of someone who is willing to listen to me and not tell me that “I’ll be fine” because I won’t. I want to kill myself and I don’t want to get out of my bed not because I’m “Lazy” but because I physically can’t move. Why is my mind racing 24/7 when I have nothing to be thinking about besides don’t getting out of bed. I can’t keep struggling with my so called “Family” and what I mean by that is a mother who is clearly dying. A dad that is in a wheelchair and can’t walk. Also dying. A sister who doesn’t talk to you. And a druggie brother. What an amazing home to live in right? So yeah I don’t get out of bed because whats the point. I’m going to end up crying and hiding in my room. Music helps drowned out the sounds of me crying at night. Whats that on your wrist. Oh I have a really mean “Cat.” I’m fine, I’m just tired. I’m going to lay down and stay in bed because I can’t move because my depression has me tied in ropes to that bed.