So, it's been a good long while since I've posted.
Sorry about that world.
Actually, sorry not sorry. I've been living my life. Or at least trying to. I graduated from College in 2012, moved back home, moved out of my mom's and out on my own and it looks like that wasn't exactly the best option either.
I'm not doing well.
I haven't been doing well for a very long time. I'm slipping more and more into the black hole of hell each day and with each passing day it becomes more and more comforting being in there.
Why come out and face the world? What's the point? The voices in my head that constantly tell me that I'm not worth it are probably right anyway.
Who wants to put up with this bunch of crazy? Hell, even I don't want to put up with it most days. So I don't. I avoid and hide. It's what I'm good at.
I'm tired of people telling me I'm awesome or how strong I am. I'm not strong. I die inside everyday. Wanting, waiting for something to happen to where I don't have to feel anymore. Just be numb to the world. I want to be at the point where you pick me with a pin, I won't even say ow.
I'm tired of crying, tired of hating myself.
I'm not worth fixing. I've never been worth fixing.
I found an old sketch pad the other day. Started using it again as a journal/sketch pad/idea book. Something to keep my head straight when all it wants to do is swim in a pool of negativity. It hasn't been helping. I've written two pages full of negative things about myself. And I believe every single one of them.
Why shouldn't I? I have no proof to say otherwise. I am the horrible person I believe myself to be. So what's the point of fixing me?
Is there ever a point?
Are we all broken, just pretending to be in once piece? That's how it feels for me. I'll never be whole. I'm to broken to fix. I don't even think duct tape can fix this one..
