I keep collapsing into the same fucking habits. Same shit, different day. I finally move on, just to fall further back. I just can’t seem to accept the truth. I constantly dwell, analyze, consuming my life into the worthless fiction obsessions of my pathetic life. And once I’m able to suppress and move forward, I find something else to depress my mind. I can’t seem to grasp the importance of any of the shit I cry over, but I’m so fucking weak, I can’t seem to control myself. A year ago, I inflected pain for 6months before I could heal, at least now it only lasts for a couple of days. If I let it consume whole once again, I don’t think I’ll ever recover. So I just take it in small doses. It’s love, and I don’t understand it. I question it. I idealize it. I deny it. I’m not an author, I need to let it go. For good.
there is no word for this emotion. this disgusted, self loathing feeling that you’re feeling because people don’t care enough or show you enough. what’s the word for feeling angry and desperate and lonely all at once? I fucking hate this.