reality is a bitch

funny, usually i care about making my posts readable or at least in the right language, but fuck it, right now that's how I think. maybe because I just emailed K and my brain is still set on writing that way. maybe it's because any sort of strong emotion I can't seem to be able to put to words unless it's in writing. I don't know. I don't care tbh

all I know is that I LOATHE myself. and I deserve it. I deserve all of it. I deserve people hurting me and I deserve people walking away and I deserve people hating me. that's what I deserve. becuase you know what, I was wrong, I'm not a broken toy, I'm fucking trash and I wish I could throw myself in the bin like that spork in Toy Story 4

I mean why should anyone stay? why should anyone not-hate me? I can't even make sense of my own fucking emotions. I can't even give myself a break. I can't even care about myself. I can wait weeks for someone I care about but I can't even give myself two days to heal from some of the deepest wounds I've suffered before I start judging myself. and I know in my head that it'll take time and that's okay because that's how things SHOULD work but no, I can't even give myself a tiny bit of the time I so freely give to anyone I care about. and the worst thing is even if I WAS willing to cut myself some slack it wouldn't have mattered because my anxiety and depression just get in the way and turn everything worsee and suddenly I'm that pathetic kid who couldn't do anything all over again

you see, it's a never ending cycle of abuse, all inside. my. fucking. head. people don't get it. people don't get that mental illness is like being bullied by your own brain. and since I've spent most of my school years bullied by most of my class, I can say that for certain that it's worse than regular bullying, because at least you can escape your bullies at home, or in your room, or wherever but you can't escape your own brain, however hard you try. it just keeps on bullying you when you're awake, when you're asleep, when you're alone, when you're with people, all the time, nonstop. there's no running from it. there's no hiding from it. never. you don't get a break. the only break is to finally fucking end it, which I'm really wondering why I haven't done yet. I was an accident anyway. I should've ended it years ago. I should've just killed myself

and lately I've crossed the line from "I don't want to live" to "I want to die" and I don't even give a fuck

what difference does it make, everyone leaves and if they haven't yet they will. anxiety is right. depression is right. they're all right. I'm nothing and worthless and everyone is going to leave because they should because I'm a fucking nightmare, a pathetic mess that doesn't even deserve to live. and one day those voices in my head will win and I will finally finish it all, save me the trouble of continuing to live like that because anything is better than this life, anything. even hell would be a vacation after this

I loathe myself and I wish I'd never been born

to quote someone much better than me: