The last few days my depression and anxiety have both skyrocketed. My anxiety, in particular, has been bad - I haven’t come this close to panic attacks in at least a couple years (with the possible exception of the couple days when I couldn’t see anything, which, I think, is perfectly reasonable). This is frustrating enough taken alone, but this morning made it so much worse.
I don’t really have anywhere else to put this, so to avoid clogging up your dashboard with my emo shit, here’s a page break.
ETA: It’s basically a book. I meant to just write a few paragraphs, but that didn’t so much work out. I REALLY don’t expect anyone to read this, I am just putting it here because I need to do SOMETHING with it.
There is totally a summary at the bottom because I am crazy and feel like I needed to summarize, because this is WAY TOO LONG.
Also, I feel like I am totally forgetting shit. Ugh.
You make me want to die. Being in our house makes me so unhappy I can’t even vocalise it - I become silent and secretive and withdraw. I want to smoke, more than I have at any other point since I stopped, including when I watched a guy light up and offer me a smoke. I know I broke your heart open, I know I fucked up, but you are breaking my heart every day with your silences and your endless ability to act as if I am not here.
I don’t even know what to ask you for. It’s never going to be okay again.
Fuck.
The Golden Gate Bridge secret this week made me angry. I mean, the responses to it did. Your empty platitudes and assurances of caring don’t make any fucking difference. You have no face. You have no arms to hold someone, no shoulder to cry into. You can’t pick up the phone to call, and if you were in this person’s life, odds are you wouldn’t think to unless they mailed the postcard to your fucking house with their name on the return address.
I am so bitter and jaded about people these days. I want to die. I have a plan. I tell people I’m fucked up and I need help, but no one asks how bad, or what’s going on. They’re all busy. Some of them, I don’t blame them. Some of them, it fucking hurts.
I can’t do it, though. My brother, much as being around is destroying me right now, still needs me. I think. If he doesn’t, for good, things will be different. I still need him, no matter how bad I’ve fucked up, and if he’s not going to want me around anymore, things will be different.
