Yknow, I always thought I was better. Always thought “this time I’m happy now, actually though.” I thought I finally knew what is was like to be loved by your friends and appreciated. To finally feel important to the people around me as much as they’re important to me.
It was all fucking bullshit.
Every time I stand back and look around I realize how little I actually seem to matter to the people around me. I know this is me putting them in a negative viewpoint, but it’s the honest truth. I’m never the first person they reach out to. I’m never one of the first people invited. I always have to initiate to them and hang out with them if I wanna see them. I’m just an afterthought to people I consider the main party in my life. Even when I post suicidal things, they don’t reach out to me unless I reach out to them first. I hate everything and I hate everyone.
And the more I hate everyone the more I just hate myself for thinking this way and for feeling this way. I wish I just didn’t care. I wish my big heart that everyone admires about me just stopping beating and the blood running through my veins would pour out of me like the tears pouring out of my eyes.
I’m so done with everything. I’m so sick of everyone. I truly feel bad for thinking this way over the people that genuinely like me but also actions speak louder then words and I’m sick of hearing their pretty words hoping to make me feel better while they watch and do nothing to actually help.
I’ll be okay tomorrow though. And the next day and the day after that until I convince myself enough once again that I’m happy. And then I’ll see you all next year when the spell runs out again and I’m back where I started. If I can even make it another year this time.