Relapsing
22/09/2025
This is such a depressing fucking title oh my god.
This is the first entry I've done in a while, writting down my thoughts is always hard, but right now it feels even more difficult. It's getting so bad I can't stop thinking about it, I can't stop talking about it, even if I try to talk to a friend about something funny it always comes back to it and when I try to vent or tell them what's wrong it just makes me feel worse.
"This", whatever it is, is eating me from inside. It doesn't let me die so it can keep feeding off me, but I'm not exactly alive either. It's really fucking scary. I'm scared of death, especially because I know one random day I'll just throw myself under a bus. And I'm scared of living too, of somehow surviving for longer, because I know that my life will continue being just as miserable, and I trully don't want to live five more horrible years. And it sounds so stupid because I shouldn't feel this way. Most people I know live lifes much harder than mine, and I can't even say I have some sort of medical condition because i work fine. I don't sleep much, but I can go through the day, I don't eat correctly, but I barely pass out, I don't have energy, but I still pass my classes much easier than others.
And I know that teen angst is inevitable, but people remember their teenager years with love and nostalgia, I look at my friends and the people around me and none of them get it. They might have bad times, but it's that, times. It feels like I've been having a bad week for six years. And I know something must be wrong with me, but as hard as I try I can't find it, it's too deep for me to reach. Everyone's sadness is justified by something happening around them while mine causes the problems around me to have something to blame for existing.
I can't stop thinking about it, every time I talk to a friend it always comes back to talking about that, and it's terrible because I always wish they'll say something that makes it better but they just don't get it. They might say they do, but it isn't true. They've never felt the same way for so fucking long, and they obviously try to give me advice like eating healthy or sleeping or whatever, and it feels even more insulting because I've either already done that or tried until I realized it was impossible for me. It's not their fault at all, they are just trying to help, it's me who can't seem to work like a normal person for some reason. I feel subhuman.
In a year I'll be sending college letters and trying to get accepted somewhere. It's scary, because I don't know if I'm even strong enough for it, but in a way it's my only hope. All my friends on college say it's better than school, and I really, really hope they are right. Even if I don't think I can be happy, I want to be. I have a right to be happy, I've never killed anyone, I've never raped anyone, I might be a terrible person, but I've never done something so evil that explains what sins I'm paying for. I've waited in line, it needs to be my turn eventually. I have a right to be happy.
I have a right to die wanting to live.