Life’s serving me a big ole shit sandwich. I’m trying to focus on your advice HDS. Trying to keep myself pumped up. Getting sick of life tea-bagging me. Trying to rise above, take the advice, follow my own advice.
I’m so sick of getting beat down. Beat me because I haven’t incorporated you into my world. Then tear me apart because you don’t like my world. There’s a million expierences I’ve missed because it made you uncomfortable… So fuck off…
You don’t want me depressed, you don’t want me miserable, you don’t want my world. So get the fuck out. Quit trying to box me in. Go fucking date someone else. What the flying fuck? Quit blaming me for being someone you don’t like.
Inner voice, as I’m being told how terrible I am as a person. Real life I’m sitting here. Accepting it. Even fucking agreeing along.
“You don’t want me depressed, you don’t want me miserable, you don’t want my world.”
I like that…. I feel that way when people treat depression like it’s a shallow thing I can just step away from.
I feel the same way. People, this is part of who I am. Depression is part of the package.
I’m growing more and more accepting of that, and it would be just swell if my loved ones would accept it also.
Well I tried being fucking open. I tried to compromise. She says “if you’re so happy being miserable, just kill yourself” for fucks sake.
She hates every aspect of me. Her grievances? I don’t say she’s pretty. I’m like cuz outward doesn’t matter and your pretty fucking ugly inside. Can’t deny that.
Yup. Been about 5-6 discussions about where I am, what I’m facing, basically, just airing it out. Well, least I know when I do break, I won’t be fucking missed. Now, though, I kinda want to make her watch…is that sick?
I get that too. Depression and addiction, two things I suffer from that normal people think you can just wake up and be OK. That it’s all in my head and that I can change it. I wish they understood. Fuck I wish I understood…
You could dress in a Mr. Rogers sweater and randomly start singing songs to imaginary kindergarteners until she finally admits she liked you better in your original form.
If she appears to like the “new” you, ramp it up a notch by making up songs about druids and meat cleavers.
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I’m so sick of getting beat down. Beat me because I haven’t incorporated you into my world. Then tear me apart because you don’t like my world. There’s a million expierences I’ve missed because it made you uncomfortable… So fuck off…
You don’t want me depressed, you don’t want me miserable, you don’t want my world. So get the fuck out. Quit trying to box me in. Go fucking date someone else. What the flying fuck? Quit blaming me for being someone you don’t like.
Inner voice, as I’m being told how terrible I am as a person. Real life I’m sitting here. Accepting it. Even fucking agreeing along.
Because I was apparently raised under a rock, (and have no life), I had to Google “tea-bagging” to find out what it was.
This site is educational in more ways than one.
Thanks for momentarily taking my mind off the windstorm.
(I think.)
😮
That’s awesome. Lol.
And slightly disturbing that there’s actually a Wikipedia page devoted to it.
What a time to be alive.
“You don’t want me depressed, you don’t want me miserable, you don’t want my world.”
I like that…. I feel that way when people treat depression like it’s a shallow thing I can just step away from.
I feel the same way. People, this is part of who I am. Depression is part of the package.
I’m growing more and more accepting of that, and it would be just swell if my loved ones would accept it also.
Well I tried being fucking open. I tried to compromise. She says “if you’re so happy being miserable, just kill yourself” for fucks sake.
She hates every aspect of me. Her grievances? I don’t say she’s pretty. I’m like cuz outward doesn’t matter and your pretty fucking ugly inside. Can’t deny that.
She actually said to just kill yourself? 🙁
I realize all people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset (myself included), but that’s really a cruel thing to throw at someone.
Yup. Been about 5-6 discussions about where I am, what I’m facing, basically, just airing it out. Well, least I know when I do break, I won’t be fucking missed. Now, though, I kinda want to make her watch…is that sick?
I get that too. Depression and addiction, two things I suffer from that normal people think you can just wake up and be OK. That it’s all in my head and that I can change it. I wish they understood. Fuck I wish I understood…
Well, apparently if I’m not Mr.Rogers I’m not fucking good enough.
You could dress in a Mr. Rogers sweater and randomly start singing songs to imaginary kindergarteners until she finally admits she liked you better in your original form.
If she appears to like the “new” you, ramp it up a notch by making up songs about druids and meat cleavers.
Fuck em if they can’t take a joke.