july 26, 4:45 am.

i seem to be a bottomless pit of feeling too much. of being sad and angry all the fucking time. of wanting to scape this country for good every day because i can’t take being this scared and heartbroken anymore. of not being able to handle my anxiety, my rage, my adhd or my depression. and it just goes on and on and on and i can’t find myself like i used to. i can’t connect with people. i can’t meet expectations anymore, nor mine nor anyone else’s. i always feel either too much or not enough and i’m sick of it. i can’t write, i can’t read, i can’t focus on anything. my mind flees into flashbacks of all the times i’ve been destroyed physically and emotionally as if i needed it as a punishment. as if i didn’t deserve to dive into a book and leave everything outside my bedroom. but that’s the thing, i am stuck with myself; myself being the problem. how do i stay away from me?

i’m still the one trick pony that gets old quickly. i’ll stun you for a while but, oh boy, you’ll get bored. i can’t reinvent myself anymore, i’m out of will and creativity. i’m a pathetic little princess that is very scared of the world but haven’t earned anything. everything for fucking granted. i don’t deserve the life i have, i don’t deserve the wonderful people around me.

who could’ve guessed that being home for more that four months could wear me down like this? i’m out of tears. i wish i couldn’t feel anymore. i wish i could be numb for a while.