Warning: Brace yourself for the attack of Crazymouth.
I constantly feel like I’m falling into this bottomless pit of depression. If you’ve ever nearly drowned, you’ll know what I’m talking about. It’s really rather unpleasant. It’s not a recent thing, though: it’s been happening for quite some time now, and I’ve always felt like people would make fun of me, if I actually told them about it.
And so I kept mum.
I let loneliness and depression sink in. I shut my trap, soaked it up like a sponge. Never (really) talked about it. Until now.
It’s hard making people happy, you know? No matter what to do, everyone will always find ways to show their disappointment, disapproval and displeasure. You’ll always be subject to critique and resentment. They will always go, “Chick’s so Blah.”
Lately this loneliness has gotten so scary, I thought I was losing it. I don’t want to be talking to myself anymore. I have had enough of hugging myself and patting myself verbally on the head each time I cried myself to sleep – I have stayed up so many nights at a stretch, I’ve lost track of time.
Being lonely in a relationship is the worst feeling ever.
Whoever said this, couldn’t have been more on point. I’ve got a handful of friends, whom I can’t really trust, on account of how often they’ve left me feeling like a total and utter moron. I’ve got a family who make me feel like I’m chopped liver. Rotting, smelly chopped liver. I’ve got a significant other who makes me feel like blah. I don’t understand why I’m always the doormat. People walk all over me. Replace me. When the replacements ditch them, they’re back to me. How pathetic does that make me sound?!
I don’t want to end up taking antidepressants now. This whole time I’ve been a mess and I need to stop unraveling further. Thing is, how?