The television is on, the rain is tapping at the window and the laptop keys are being hit quickly but every once in a while. Sounds are audible, but some still hide themselves from me. Some things are bigger than they appear through my eyes. My eyes have been acting so crazy lately, too – nothing an eye doctor can fix, though.

I can’t smile – I can’t even force myself to. I feel like it’s so pointless. I’m hallucinating. I’m not shy or antisocial or a stuck up/snobby bitch. It’s called depression and it hurts like Hell. I don’t want to talk about my freaking feelings. I’m saying what I feel most of the time, but it isn’t even intentional a lot of times. That’s really hard for me. If I talk, I’m going to say the wrong thing. If I reply to your comment(s), even the tiniest bit will probably tick me off even more right now. I don’t want to be told what to do or what I should do or that I’m freaking ‘okay’ or that I will be ‘okay’ or whatever the Hell it is you’re going to say to me because you probably, most likely, just really don’t understand and this entire thing has been building up ever since August of last year, and YES I am gonna get help this Tuesday – I’m counting down – so don’t you freaking tell me I need to get freaking help. YOU didn’t HAVE to read my blog, so unless you’re going to keep your two cents to yourself, DON’T COMMENT MY BLOG until I have SOME KIND OF CONTROL of my emotions.

I’m tired of Mimi telling me that she can see I’m ‘happier’. That’s just a reminder of how well I can hide my unhappiness and how bad people actually know me. I want someone who knows me – someone who gets me, someone who sees the real me and who can see my emotions – not what someone wants to see out of me. It’s like I’m this person that everybody tries to take a piece of – like I’m a personality stock people take a piece of, as in a piece of what they want to take from me – as in that personality piece.

People wanna know my feelings, so…

I feel empty.

I feel lost.

I feel invisible.

I feel voiceless.

I feel soundless.

I feel worthless

I feel ugly.

I feel broken.

comment saying I’m ‘not’ any of those things, and OH you will hear the end of it. i’m so sick of my feelings being worthless and unimportant. facts do NOT override feelings. depression is a disease. it’s NOT a choice. do you seriously think I’d choose to have these horrendous thoughts all of the time? and work isn’t exactly helping. tuesdaytuesdaytuesday.

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Comments on this post

I don’t feel comfortable saying I know exactly how you feel, but when I read your entry, I felt like I could have written it, so I think I do know how you feel.
I have experienced what you are experiencing with people trying to tell you how you feel and how they are confident that you are no longer feeling x and y, because they can tell that you are no longer depressed. It’s so fucked up and humiliating, and I am sorry you have to go through it, because it’s just horrible.
Here is a big virtual hug to you.

I’m so sorry to hear that you have depression, and I’m not going to say that things’ll get better or anything like that. I’ll just leave you with a virtual hug and a reminder that there are people out here who’ll just listen if that’s what you need. hugs

I felt like everything you’ve listed before, but then I grew up and got help from a therapist. Shit, I really thought I’d kill myself if I didn’t get into medical school… And I didn’t. I’m here, still living in an abusive household, going through a complex form of PTSD, but I’m still alive. Fortunately, I got over the depression that you’re experiencing now.

You may feel like that now, but seriously, who doesn’t at times of depression? At some point some of us has that feeling of worthlessness, ugliness, emptiness, and discontent. We all go through that at one point. So yes there are many of us that understand.

I’ve been there and done that.

What I’m doing to help myself? Do something I love to do. And hell, I workout with my best friend – that keeps me from wanting to think about suicide.

You may not like what I might be saying, so be it. But I mean well. I hope that you defeat this and you find the strength to make yourself get better.

And if you don’t want our two cents, you can turn off commenting. Simple as that. Seeing that you left it open, you do want our two cents.

I have an abusive background, plus some other things.

Also, I leave them open because I don’t want to have to go back to the “Posts” page and check the “No Comments” box since I can’t check it directly on my fucking editing page.

Thirdly, there are other things people can fucking comment with aside from their two cents.


I. Don’t. Care.

P.S. This anger part is called Tourette’s. It makes dealing with depression much more difficult. There’s one other — and it makes it quite difficult as well.

I know that feeling pretty well. My recommendations: physical activity that distracts you (running?) or plunging into work so you’re not thinking about it.

Thanks, but I don’t really want any recommendations… sorry. I also don’t feel like telling you why I cannot do either of those, so… eh.

You are indeed depressed, and being depressed is not fun. So I’ll just leave a virtual hug for you right here! Hug!

Thank you♥

“They didn’t understand it, but like so many unfortunate events in life, just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it isn’t so.”
―Lemony Snicket