Literally so bad

I’m a failure that should apologize for her very existence. I can’t get the tears to form, but it feels like a mental breakdown is imminent. I tried to provoke it today, but I’m too dulled - on the edge of panic, but never falling over it into the chasm. I wish I could peel my skin off and gauge my eyes out and rip my hair out. My physical body does me no good, and I hate it, and it hates me, and it’ll probably always be like that. I don’t know if there is a chance to feel better than this anymore, or if this is just what I’m destined for. I’m losing hope. I can’t sleep. I can’t feel awake. 

That is all. 

Broke af

I hate my fucking life. 

I’m tired of listening to other peoples’ fucking issues and complaints about how terrible their lives are with their hundreds of dollars of expendable income monthly and their group of good friends and partners who aren’t fucked up and their normal kids. 

I’m tired of being fat and sad. I’m tired of living in shitty embarrassing houses and not going anywhere or doing anything because I’m broke. I’m tired of fashion and home decor being inaccessible to me. I’m so tired of being poor. I’m so tired of a bank account that’s fucking empty all the time. 

I want to run away from all of this. I get it now. I get the moms. I get waiting until you think your kids are well enough off and then leaving the sorry piece of shit that ruined your life and all that that entails. 

I made bad choices. I had so many other nice decent options. It could have been so easy. It could have had a level of fake where I would have been in charge and given whatever I wanted. I thought I deserved better or that I could create something out of fucking nothing. I was a fucking idiot. I knew how to do it all and enjoyed it and chose to give it all up thinking it would be better and it’s fucking not. It’s not better at all. 

I can’t live like this forever. I need better.