one of my favorite things is reading/hearing other people brag/talk about their super great weekend.
ask me how it feels to not leave your house for 4 days in a row.
ask me how it feels to not leave your house for 3 weekends in a row.
ask me how it feels to not be invited to 3 parties in a row.
ask me how it feels to not physically speak for 4 days in a row.
i’ll tell you how it feels, it feels amazing. (really)
omg i could never use omegle i would get too anxious and start crying why would you ever volunteer to talk to a stranger, that sounds horrible.
sometimes i feel very emotional and want to eat everything ever in the world and sometimes i feel very emotional and want to throw up my food and never eat again.
I actually don’t think I feel any other emotion but sadness. I wish I could describe just the numbness and the staleness of my being.
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do you know what it’s like to walk in on someone who has committed suicide? the feeling is hard to explain but it’s a little like this. it’s like walking into an alternate reality of uncertainty and sadness and anger strike you. it’s like feeling your insides twist into a knot and needing to puke. it’s like a moment of realization where all the hints come together and make sense. then it’s regret. why couldn’t I stop this?
what’s worse is reading a suicide note with your name on it. “I love her, I always have. and I deeply regret our distance. I’m sorry she had to grow up fatherless. that is one main reason for this decision I’ve made.” I have the whole thing memorized. every word, all the punctuation. even the handwriting. I’ve been able to keep it and I read it every now and again when I’m feeling sorry for myself and wallowing in self pity, hatred and sadness.
