Have you ever felt so sad that you’d actually have to start to feel better in order to be sad enough to cry?
One thing that’s fun is to have so many failed suicide attempts that you more or less just assume you’ll fail every time and give up and decide to be sad forever.
Tumblr is where I compartmentalize my saddest jokes!
I should probably resign myself to the conclusion that I am beyond genuine help.
Insomuch as medicine doesn’t really work for me, and I’ve tried several. And any that do seem to effect a change are either very temporary or has an equally bad/weird side effect.
Beyond prescribed medications, all I’ve got are my - very few - friends. Of whom I either feel bad about asking for help or with whom I don’t feel comfortable enough to ask for help. And regardless of that, I don’t want to have to rely on other people to help me with my problems.
Especially when I can’t even grasp what’s wrong. If I can’t figure it out, surely they can’t. All their help really is in the long run is a pacifier - it helps me feel better in the immediate, but won’t fix anything in the long haul.
Which is exactly why I should just admit to myself that I’m able to be fixed. I’m just broken, and I’ve got nothing to remedy that, and that’s all there is to it.
And if that’s the case, then why the fuck am I hanging around? I don’t want this to be my life - I’m depressed 24/7/365, and every four to six months or so I have a complete mental breakdown. I’ve been slogging through that routine for like four years now. And there is no way I can keep doing it.
If I can’t fix it, if anything I do is just a band-aid, then why the fuck should I feel beholden to staying?
And, just as an afterthought, it’s odd to me that a person could feel this bad for this long, but still not have developed any effective coping mechanisms to speak of. Yet here I am.